


Hiraeth

by Bunshin



Series: Unexpected [2]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Anorexia, Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sequel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, then tord comes back, tom thought he killed tord and got depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunshin/pseuds/Bunshin
Summary: It's been awhile since Tom killed Tord. The voice won't go away, he doesn't really eat, and Edd and Matt have stopped asking him if he was okay. Then Tord comes back, back from the dead, and it all goes downhill from there.no longer on haitusThis is a sequel to Unexpected. You won't have to read it(at least, I don't think so), but it may help you understand some references and plot elements.Link to Unexpected: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824122/chapters/26682285





	1. Chapter 1

_Whelve_

_(v.) to bury something deep; to hide._

What if he _did_ end it all?

He wasn’t completely sure. Nobody could actually see into the future. But, if he knew one thing, it was that he wouldn’t be missed. Sure, Edd and Matt were people he considered his friends, but... they moreover tolerated him then actually like him. They had stopped asking if he was okay a long time ago.

His thighs were covered scars. Some were fresh, some were old. Pink, red, or dwindling into a soft white. He didn’t remember when he started cutting himself. He wasn’t stupid, so he stayed away from spots that could be seen, like wrists.

He had been saving up pills. So, so many pills. He didn’t know when he would do it, but he would do it soon. He was empty a lot. Empty, anxious, angry, or depressed. He was irritable. He lost weight. He stopped sleeping. He heard a voice a lot. Had hallucinations.

Usually, the main part of them... was Tord. Almost always Tord. He hadn’t meant to kill the poor guy. He just wanted to make Tord stop hurting them. Stop hurting Edd. Matt. So, he shot Tord out of the sky. He would like to say that he immediately regretted it. He didn’t. It wasn’t until a few nights later when he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he realized that he had killed Tord. He had killed a person. Even if that person fucking sucked, he still killed him.

That was the first time he cried like that in a long, long time.

He kept a picture of Tord up. It was placed in the middle of a dart board, darts scattered everywhere but the picture. It’s not that he was a bad shot- he just didn’t have the heart to pierce the paper. He couldn’t hit Tord again.

Would it be weird to say he missed the fights? He missed spitting at Tord, the harsh pokes it earned, and the laughter when one of them fucked up on an insult. He missed Tord being the only one to stop him from doing stupid shit. He missed when it wasn’t himself telling him his faults. He missed Tord.

He was surprised he wasn’t crying. Well, he couldn’t really afford to cry, because it was movie night with Edd and Matt in about five minutes. He forced himself in front of the mirror, cringing at the reflection. He brought a hand up to his face, tracing it gently. Large bags under his eyes, the messed up hair... he looked like shit.

_DING!_

Tom flinched at the loud noise, nearly poking his eye out. He picked up his phone, eyes scanning over Edd’s text.

_Movie night is starting!! Get over here!_

He slipped the phone into his pocket with a long sigh, staring at the mirror for one last moment. He shook his head as he left, glancing at the pill bottles. Later, he thought, rushing through his home. He left the cursed placed and walked over to Edd’s apartment. Not bothering to knock, he let himself inside.

“Hey, hey, Tom!” Edd called, poking his head out from the corner. “We’ve got popcorn and drinks.” Tom forced a gentle smile, following Edd towards the living room.

“What are we watching?” he asked quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“ _Ready Player One-_ we heard it was extremely good,” answered Edd excitedly, glancing back at Tom as they sat down on the couch, which was where Matt was.

“Yeah!” Matt agreed loudly, the intense noise forcing Tom to flinch. “The graphics are supposed to be really awesome.”

“I’m excited,” Tom lied, rubbing his eyes. Edd reached up a hand to pat the smaller boy, grinning eagerly.

**_Can’t even tell the truth to your friends._ **

"Okay, I’m hitting play!” Matt cheered, slamming the button on the remote. Tom pressed himself further into the sofa, allowing his eyes to close.

He only opened them when Edd nudged him, holding out a beer bottle. Tom nodded in thanks, snatching it out of his hands and opening it.

He began to drink it slowly, eyes closing once again. It was easier to get sleep when he was surrounded by others. The voice was quieter that way.

Tom was once again woken by knocking. He shifted upwards, eyes squinted as he looked at the television screen. The credits were playing and the noise of Edd’s and Matt’s snoring filled his ears. The knocking came again, light. Unwillingly, Tom got up and off the couch, making his way to the front door.

He passed a clock on his way, an irritated sigh leaving him. Who the hell knocks at one in the morning? Creeps, probably. At that realization, Tom began to grip his beer bottle with a feel of unease flooding him. He placed his hand on the door handle and opened it.

“H-hey, Thomas-“

The beer bottle he had been holding fell to the floor, the noise almost deafening, Tord jumping in shock as result.

_**Interesting.** _

Tord cursed under his breath as a pair of footsteps rushed down the hall, followed by Edd shouting, “Tom, are you okay?!”

Tom didn’t hear him, just continued to stare at Tord. His left arm was replaced with a mechanical one and the left side of his face was scarred, the eye covered by an eyepatch.

He did that, didn’t he?

**_You ruined him, Tommy._ **

Tom could feel the tears prick at his wide eyes, his lips beginning to quiver. The sound of Edd yelling at Tord was muffled. He was shaking, wasn’t he? His mouth was open, but nothing came out. He wanted to shout, scream, to do anything but stare.

Hell, he would prefer this to be a hallucination.

Tord’s lips were moving, the words soft. He was looking down, like he was apologizing. He was apologizing. Why was he apologizing? He didn’t do anything wrong.

Tom had to be dreaming.

He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he would wake up. He had to wake up. _Please,_ he had to wake up.

He snapped them open again. Everyone was staring at him. It wasn’t a dream. His arms fell to his side.

“Tom? What do you think?”

The first tear fell.

He didn’t know what he was doing when he leapt at Tord. His hands were wrapping around Tord’s waist and he was squeezing before he could think, Tord stumbling backward from the sudden impact.

“You dick! You utter fucking dick!” The tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t care anymore. “I-we thought you were dead!” He was choking on his words. Everyone was frozen in shock. “God, I hate you so much! I thought I killed you, and then you just... you...” Tom trailed off.

“Is this a good response?” Tord asked quietly, patting Tom’s shoulder awkwardly. Tom didn’t respond, just backed off of him with a sniffle.

“This... I... you... I...” Tom shut his mouth, eyes closing. “I have to go.” He rushed away. He had to get out. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to leave.

He rushed out the door, the silence deafening. He didn’t look back when he entered his own apartment, the tears not stopping. Why weren’t they stopping? He closed the door and went staggering toward his bathroom- the one with his pills.

_**Do it. It’s your only way to amend.** _

He couldn’t handle this. Tord was alive, but his body was ruined. Tom ruined him. He took a nervous breath as he closed the bathroom door. His cabinets, he had to open them, he had to get inside of them-

_**One life for another, since you destroyed his.** _

His hands scrambled at the handles. He finally got them open and began to pile the pill bottles on the counter. He couldn’t stop trembling as he tried to open them. Flinching at the sound of knocking, Tom popped a bottle open, spilling all its contents.

**_D̵̼̾ǫ̶̣̼̳̐ ̸̺̪̦̤̆̆i̵͖̥̟͐t̵̨̪̋̈,̷͎͋͌̈̃͂ ̴̭͔͉̆̈͠T̸̛̘̤̺̅̚͜͝ỏ̷̘̹̜̈́̅͑͝ͅͅm̸̭͍̈́̋̿͝ͅm̵͓̮͙̯̜͗y̵̧̡̧̻͔͊̏.̸̺̜̗͍̈́͛̈͠_ **

“Tom?”

He let out a shaky sob, hurriedly picking them up.

“Tom? Can we come in?”

**_Did you forget to lock the door?_ **

He didn’t respond, turning on the sink and downing about five pills. His hands scrambled for more when the door creaked open.

“Tom!”

**_Y̶̜̺͓̬̪͗̎O̸͉̘̘̣͊͛͑̈̒Ṳ̸͉͌̊̑̐̈ͅ ̶͓͍͎̄͂ͅI̶̙̼͓͓̣͂͝D̸̨̛̼̞̯̻̿̓͝I̴̛͍̩͛O̵͇̟͊̅͘T̶͙̥̳͆̈́̎-̴̹̊̐̏̉̈_ **

God, was this really happening? He was so close. He almost did it. He almost ended the fucking train wreck that was his life.

“Get him away from those!”

Hands grasped his wrists, pulling him away. He fought against the grip, thrashing desperately.

_**S̸͔͉̗̱̜͐͆̿T̸̘̲͌͊̈̔̒O̸͔̟̗͗P̵̟̉̽̅̈́͘-̵̧͉̟͙͒̀̊** _

“I’m so close! What are you doing?! Stop! Stop it!” he cried hysterically, kicking Matt. They didn’t respond to him, just pulled him out of the bathroom.

“A fucking bloody razor,” Tord hissed from the side, pulling at his hair as his eyes swept across the counter.

“Tom, please, you’ve gotta calm down,” Edd begged as he winced from Tom’s attacks.

“I was so close! Why did you have to interrupt?!” Tom yelled, kicking and throwing punches.

God, please. Why? Why are you so fucking cruel? He just wants to die. He-

He just wants everything to stop.

Tom wasn’t fighting back anymore. He was just sobbing. Why did this happen? Why did they walk in? Why didn’t he lock the door? Was he that pathetic?

The answer was yes. It was always yes.

He was worthless. Useless. Pathetic, disgusting, ugly, loud, selfish, stupid, liar, ignorant, lazy, spoiled-

“Thomas?”

He could feel his breath hitch.

“Tom, please.”

“Tom?”

He slowly looked up. Three worried faces were staring back at him. He felt sick.

Why?

He pushed them away, hands beginning to clench in anger, digging his nails into his palm. _“What the fuck were you guys doing?”_

“We could ask you the same thing!” Edd accused, barely moving.

“Why the hell did you stop me? I was so close!” he took a step closer towards Edd, steps wavering a bit, the other two backing off.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you take your own life-!” Edd was cut off by a hard slap.

Tom had slapped him.

“There isn’t a life to take! I sure as hell don’t have one!” He took another step forward, the tears still pouring out of his eyes. “I was so close.” He was so dizzy. He was so, so dizzy. “So close.”

_**S̶͖͚̩͉̊̃͑l̷͙͎͈̥̏ē̵̢̥͛e̵͖̘̝͂͠p̴̗̺͙̩͑.** _

He was falling.

“Wha- Tom?!”


	2. Chapter 2

_Agonizing_

_(adj.) causing great physical or mental pain._

Tom felt groggy. His eyelids stuck together when he tried to open them. He rubbed them in hopes to wake up, sitting up. Was he hungover? He didn’t _remember_ drinking.

“You’re awake.” The voice made Tom jump and his eyes fly open, the Brit almost tumbling off the bed.

Oh. Right.

Tord sat on a chair next to the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. We were taking turns watching over you,” he said gently, averting his gaze from Tom’s stare.

What if this wasn’t real? A hallucination? The voice playing tricks on him?

It has happened before.

They always disappeared when he touched them, as long as he was aware they weren’t real.

He let out a deep sigh, stretching his hand out toward the hallucination. It raised an eyebrow as he hesitantly touched its arm.

It didn’t disappear.

“You... you’re real?”

The question seemed to raise some alarms in Tord, the Norwegian’s eye widening.

“Y-yeah, I’m real, Tom. Why wouldn’t I be?” The concern in Tord’s voice made him flinch.

“It coulda made you up,” he mumbled, though not loud enough for Tord to hear. “What time is it?”

Tord pulled out a phone from his pocket. “It’s around eight,” he answered.

“Oh.”

Tord sighed. “Why?”

Tom averted his gaze. Tord didn’t specify, but he knew exactly what he meant. “Why not?”

“Tom—“

“It wouldn’t have worked, anyway,” Tom interrupted. “It was a spur of the moment and inefficient.”

“W-what?” Tord stuttered. “Could you elaborate?”

Tom looked down. “I didn’t crush any of the pills. That was my first mistake. I should’ve gotten really drunk, too, because it would’ve helped secure the death. I would’ve passed out or thrown up before I overdosed.”

“You sure know a lot about this,” Tord said, eyebrows knitting together.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time, Tord.”

He shook his head gently. “Why did you even try to?”

“I thought I killed you. Surprisingly, I was guilty. Really fucking guilty.” Tom gulped. “Then you came back, and it told— er, I told myself that I ruined your life. And I was right. I mean...” Tom began to stare at Tord’s metal arm. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Tom flinched at the shock in his voice. “Why the hell are you apologizing?”

“You just— you didn’t deserve that,” Tom replied, turning his head.

“I was literally insane. I mean, actually insane. Paul and Patryk have been forcing me to see a therapist since then. I tried to kill you, and Edd, and Matt! Honestly, if you didn’t... if you hadn’t...” Tord stopped talking, letting out a small sniffle. Oh, fuck. He was crying. Tom had never seen Tord cry. “The only scenario where you should’ve felt guilty is if you hadn’t.”

Tom didn’t really know what to say. He took a deep breath before leaning in to hug him. “Tord—“

“No- no, no, no, don’t touch me,” Tord said in a hurried panic, eye widening as he tried to move back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What are you gonna do? Squeeze my arm off? Don’t be a little bitch. You’re crying and need to stop blaming yourself.” He waited until Tord dropped his defenses, the Norwegian slowly relaxing as Tom went in for a hug.

“Fuck you, I’m not a little bitch,” Tord replied as he wrapped his hands around Tom’s waist, no actual bite in his voice.

“Rea- oh, fuck!” Tom retracted quicker than he would’ve liked too, hands rushing to clutch the side of his head.

**_Do you not remember what he did to you?_ **

His vision went white, his head was pounding-

_**Don’t ever touch him again, Thomas, or I swear I will rip your head into shreds-** _

“Go away,” he interrupted, beginning to curl up. God, it had never done this before, why does it hurt so bad, what the hell, why was it doing this, make it stop, make it stop, _make it stop-_

_**Promise me, promise me you’ll never touch him again, and I’ll make it stop but you have to promise to me, Thomas, you have to fucking promise me—** _

The more that it spoke the worse the pain was. It was so fucking agonizing that he was about to cry, his throat was clenching pitifully as he tried to get the words out.

**_Do you promise me, bitch?_ **

“I-I promise!” he finally managed to stutter out, hyperventilating as the white and pain slowly started to fade. He just sat there pathetically, waiting for everything to go back to normal.

“What the hell was that?”

God, someone was asking a question. Edd, it was Edd that was asking the question.

“It hurt so bad—“ Tom whispered, still clutching at his hair.

“What hurt? Tom, do you need to go to the doctor?”

That was Matt.

“No, I know what it was, I’m okay now, I’m okay.” He took a deep, shaky breath before he looked up. Everyone had this panicked look in their eyes, but Tord-

Oh, god, he hadn’t meant to.

“Nonononono, Tord, don’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault, it didn’t want me to touch you, it’s not your fault—“

“It?”

Shit.

“Uhhh—“ Tom began, eyes widening. Did he just out himself? Oh, no, he did, he’s a fucking failure—

“It? What the hell is ‘it’, Tom?” Edd repeated, his voice raising.

“You- you can’t make me tell you anything!” he spat quickly, looking away. He really fucked up.

“Tom, please, we can’t help you if you won’t let us,” Matt offered, inching closer. Oh, god, he fucked up so bad.

“It won’t- it’ll hurt me- I can’t-“ Tom began to sputter everything that came to mind, eyes widening in panic.

“What will hurt you?!”

“The voice!”

Silence filled the room, Tom slapping his hands over his mouth when he realized what he said. It seemed that, at this moment, everyone realized the gravity of the situation. Even Matt.

“The... the voice?” Tord echoed.

“I- I gotta go. I’m getting out of this building.” Tom jumped up and he was pushing past everybody, the trio too shocked to try and stop him.

Where was he heading?

The park.

Yeah.

Going to Stella Park sounded really nice right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> i was wondering if y'all could do a favor for me?  
> i'm debating on adding monster tom, due to the fact that i want to keep most elements of Eddsworld canon to be... well, canon in this story.  
> but!  
> i am also afraid of it being way too cringey.  
> i know for a fact i can write a lot of cringe without realizing it, so i wanted to see what you guys think of it. it could be a major plot element if you guys give me the go ahead to implement monster Tom, but i'm not sure yet.  
> thank you! i hope you're enjoying Hiraeth so far! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Memory_

_(n.) something remembered from the past; a recollection._

The sun was shining dimly, covered by clouds, as Tom shoved his hands into his pocket. He couldn’t help but sigh. His footsteps were coated only by the wind, the force so strong it was pulling at his sweatshirt. 

Tom liked this kind of weather. The calm before the storm. He loved the tug of the wind, the way it sounded in his ears, how he didn’t have to squint to see. Not only that, but very few people were out during this weather. If they were, they were either too busy to talk to him, or they were just like him. Enjoying the perfect weather. The quiet.

Not bothering to look both ways, he crossed the street toward Stella Park. This place held many memories, good and bad. It was his safe haven, a place where his bad memories washed away.

He entered the gates to Stella Park, glancing around casually. He spotted the nearest bench, eyes softening. Good memories began to fill his head.

_”Hey, commie! Turn your ass around!” Tom suddenly shouted, spotting a red hoodie walking down the path..._

_”Hey...” he spoke up suddenly, “what’s a tsundere?”_

_A silence filled the air, Tord frowning. The commie put a hand on Tom’s shoulder, voice full of concern, “Are you okay, Tom?”_

_His thoughts, however, were interrupted by Edd shouting, “Jesus Christ! What’s wrong with your ey...es... oh.”_

Yeah. 

A lot of good memories.

He couldn’t help but smile, listening to the wind rustling the trees as he sat on the bench. It’s where he met all of his friends, where he was saved. It was an important place.

“Tom?”

He looked up in shock when he heard his voice, only to sigh when he saw the trio walking toward him. He leaned back on the bench, eyes closing, waiting for them to get closer. There was no point in trying to run. He couldn’t run from his problems forever.

**_Why not?_ **

He stiffened a little, but he promised himself that he would ignore it. Just ignore it.

“Hey, Tom.” 

He cracked open an eye, revealing the trio. They all looked so gentle, settling down on the bench next to him. By the expression on their faces, they remembered this place well, too.

“How’d you find me?” he asked, refusing to look at them.

“You used to always disappear saying ‘I’ll be at Stella Park’, so we just... assumed, I guess,” Edd replied delicately, as though he was afraid of scaring Tom. They went quiet, waiting for his response.

“Are you guys going to ask me about it or not?” he asked impatiently, breaking the silence. The wind blew right on time, sending a small shiver up his spine. If it was possible, he could hear the awkwardness.

“How long has it been there?” Matt spoke up.

 _ **Since daddy died,** _ the voice cooed. 

“Since I was six, I think,” Tom answered.

“How often does it actually... well, speak?” Tord asked. Tom finally spared a glance toward their direction. 

“Whenever it wants.”

 _ **Damn straight!**_ it purred excitedly.

“What about right now?”

_**Tell them, go ahead!** _

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “It likes making snarky comments.”

**_You know, I’m not an it._ **

He immediately paused, hand flying up to give them the ‘one minute’ sign.

_What?_

**_I’m a he._ **

“What?” he repeated, though verbally. 

 ** _I’m a he. Dick._**  

“Why the fuck do I need to that? Is it important?” He couldn’t help but laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What? What is it saying?” Edd asked in a panic, arms flying up.

“It’s a he, apparently.”

 “Is it just one voice, Tom?” Tord spoke. Everyone went quiet, directing their attention to him.

 “Yeah...?” he answered cautiously, eyebrows raising.

“Do you think it’s real? Like, an actual person?”

Tom snorted. “Of course not. I’m not an idiot.” Tord’s eye widened. 

“It’s never interacted with anybody around you?” The more he spoke, the more worried he sounded.

“No. It- _he-_ isn’t real. He can’t really interact with people— why am I worried about offending a voice inside my head?”

“That doesn’t sound like schizophrenia, but... I don’t know what else it could be,” Tord sighed.

_**He thinks I’m a part of a mental disorder?! What a dick!** _

Tom snorted. 

_Well, what else would you be?_

_**A ghost, maybe a monster, but definitely not a mental disorder! I’m deeply offended!** _

“God, this is the nicest you’ve been all year.”

“It’s _nice_ to you?!” Edd and Matt shouted in unison. 

“Could you guys stop treating him like he’s real? He’s my imagination from trauma,” Tom hissed, bristling. He hated it. They were treating this situation like a toy. Weren’t they worried for him? Didn’t they want to help them? Did they even fucking care? 

 ** _You’re so mean!_**  

“Does he have a name?” Tord asked curiously.

 _“What_ does it _even_ matter-“

 _ **My name is ‘the voice’, apparently. Thanks for the creative name.**_  

“Shut up, you’re a part of my imagination, you’re not real, and you’re bothering me so just go away—“

_**Shutty! You’re being so mean!** _

“Me? Being mean?!” Tom shouted in exasperation. “You’ve literally pressured me into attempting _suicide!”_

Everyone finally shut up, including thevoice.

Tom placed his face in his hands, sighing. “Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed. I’ve never talked about this before.” He leaned down a little bit, using all of his self-control to not slam his head into the back of the bench. Being in pain sounded fucking _therapeutic_ right now. 

“This isn’t your fault, Tom.” Tord reached over to touch him.

 ** _Don’t you fucking dare—_**  

“No!” Tom shouted, jumping away. Tord’s face pales, retracting his hand quickly. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” 

“It’s okay, Tord,” he replied, nodding slightly. “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “How’s Paul and Patryk?”

“What?”

“Paul and Patryk. Your dads,” Tom replied mockingly, rolling his eyes(not that anybody could tell).

“They’re good,” Tord replied, clearing this throat. “Gay as hell, but good.” That riles some laughter from the group, though the fact that he was trying to lighten the mood was so blindingly obvious, it was sorta awkward. 

Then the rain started.

Tom first felt a drop of water on his forehead, then soft pattering on the cement and grass- 

Then it was all out pouring.

Everyone was shouting in annoyance, shoving their hoods over their heads and rushing out of the park.

Tord cursed loudly in Norwegian and it happened.

Tom laughed.

Like, genuinely laughed.

It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to add M! tom, but i don't know when it'll appear. maybe next chapter, maybe ten. idk


	4. Chapter 4

_Generosity_

_(n.) the quality of being kind and generous._

“Hey, Tom?”

He glanced up. Edd and Matt were a few feet in front of him and Tord, the duo talking softly.

“Yeah?” Tom glanced at Tord.

“Is it possible I could, you know, sleep at your apartment tonight? I don’t wanna bother those two...,” Tord asked cautiously.

“Sure,” Tom answered without hesitation. “You’ll have to stay on the couch, though.”

“Y-yeah!” Tord agreed, voice full of relief. “And, uhm, while we’re on the topic of your apartment... besides the layer of dust, it was freakishly clean.”

“Your key phrase there is ‘layer of dust’.” Tom laughed softly. “I don’t leave my bedroom. It’s a mess.”

“Oh.” Tom looked at Tord again, raising his eyebrows when the Norwegian swiftly moved his gaze away.

“Alright,” Edd interrupted, “Matt and I are gonna head into my apartment.” He didn’t even question where Tord was going to stay as he and Matt walked away, still chattering away.

“Dicks,” Tom muttered under his breath, continuing toward his apartment. It took a moment for Tord to follow him, the Norwegian watching Edd and Matt leave. “Tord?” His head shot up, rushing forward so he was following Tom again. “Don’t go into my room. If you need something, knock, but don’t come into my room. Understood?” He opened the door to his apartment, walking inside.

He closed the door behind Tom. “Y-yeah,” he agreed, glancing around. Once again, freakishly clean. “So, just the couch?”

Tom nodded, already walking toward the hallway. “Yeah. Feel free to watch T.V. or get yourself something to eat. There should be a blanket on the kitchen table.” He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Tord.

He entered his bedroom door, glancing around. Definitely a mess. Clothes were piled on the floor, dishes of what little he ate stacking up. Climbing on the bed, he let out a soft sigh.

He brought the blanket to cover him, sitting up. He covered his face with his hands. God, too many things have happened and such a short period of time. He began to gently hit his head repeatedly on the headboard, though not hard enough to cause pain.

First, Tord comes back, which caused him to have a mental breakdown and not only _cry_ in front of Edd and Matt, something he promised to never do, but he tried to commit suicide- and failed!  _Failed!_

The next hit was a little harder than he expected, but he didn’t really care. The more he thought, the harder he hit.

After that little key event, he and Tord had their little talk, where they hugged and the voice practically tried to kill him. Then he _outed_ the fact that he had a voice in his head. Then he left and the others followed, where they made light of the voice. Like it didn’t matter.

God, he didn’t matter to them.

The thought had always been lingering.

It first stood out in Spares, when they kicked Tom out to replace him with a second Matt. Even if it was a joke, he got pretty upset. He burst through he door and bashed the clone’s head in with a bat. Edd, Tord, and Matt all laughed it off.

It was that moment he realized that he didn’t really matter to them. He was just their roommate. A person to help pay rent.

God, he had tried to tell them. He tried to tell them through little hints. He made self-depreciating jokes, he made jokes about being sad, he even straight up _told_ Edd he was suicidal but guess who was too _fucking_ distracted by the television? _Guess who?!_ They never noticed! Not once did they ever, _ever_ question the way he acted, the way it was obvious he had spent the whole night crying, how he was so damn exhausted all the time!

Not a _single_ time!

Fucking hell. He let out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t their fault.

He couldn’t blame them.

How could he expect them to like him when he didn’t even like himself?

It sucks. It sucks so much because he was supposed to be getting _better_. He was supposed to be happier, but then Tord happened with his giant robot.

Life just... fucking sucks. He just wants it all to end. He’s so fucking empty all the time and everything sucks and he just wants to _die_.

Life was closing in on him. The walls were narrow and he was being crushed under the pressure.

Where was his motivation to be happy? _Where_ _was_ _it_? He didn’t want to fix himself. No, he didn’t want to, because something keeps screaming inside of him that he doesn’t deserve to be happy. He doesn’t deserve a good life, good friends.

He is worthless. Replaceable. He is nothing.

God, he needed a break. He really needed a break.

He shifted the covers away from him, placing his feet on the ground. When he stood, he wavered a little, but continued out the door. He made his way down the hallway and out into the living room, glancing around uncertainly. He could see Tord’s sleeping figure, the television on but at a low volume. He crept out of the hallway and through the room, toward the kitchen.

He made sure to keep quiet as he opened the fridge, taking the bottle of vodka- Smirnoff, to be exact. He closed it and began to leave the kitchen, passing the couch.

This time, though, he was stopped by Tord’s voice.

“You’re gonna get drunk?”

He froze immediately, thoughts racing. He could lie, say he was getting some water- oh, shit, he can’t do that because he has a bottle of vodka in his hand, smart choice, Tom!

“Uhhh—“

“Tom? Are you?” Tord’s voice was disapproving. He felt like he was in a courtroom with a lawyer asking him if he committed a murder.

“M-maybe?” Tom offered, already trying to inch away.

“Tom, you know that’s not a good idea.” He was already standing up.

“Tord, you’re not my parent. I can get drunk if I want to,” he replied, suddenly defiant.

“I’m being serious, Jehovah’s Witness.” Scowling, he flipped Tord off, turning to head back into his room. “Were you hitting your headboard?”

Tom immediately stiffened. “What?”

“I know it’s a change of subject, but there was a constant banging sound coming from your room. I put two and two together, and...”

“That’s none of your business.” Tom rushed back into his room, slamming the door behind him and searching for his flask. He needed to get drunk.


	5. Chapter 5

_Provoke_

_(v.) stimulate or give rise to (a reaction or emotion, typically a strong or unwelcome one) in someone._

“Why are you so scared of everything?” 

Tom swerved his head around a little quicker than he meant to at the words.

Tord was staring at him, waiting for an answer. The Norwegian was lazily sitting on Tom’s couch, the television playing some sort of a documentary. Tom was sitting on the kitchen table, his legs dangling off the edge. He was gaping at Tord.

“Well? Do you have an answer?” Tord was drumming his fingers on the sofa, cocking his head to the side in curiosity, eye still trained on the television.

“The world is... scary, I guess. I don’t know how to defend myself; I could get mugged pretty easily,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone, biting his lip gently. He didn’t like where this was going.

“You wanna learn?” Tord offered. Casually. Like he wasn’t trying to do Tom a favor. 

“What?” Tom’s voice was shocked. Well, who wouldn’t be? Your enemy says they’ll teach you how to fight, and surprise, surprise, you’re, well... surprised. A miracle.

“I’m a military man,” he said humorously, “I know how to fight. I could teach you.” He turned his head towards Tom. “It’s no longer amusing to see you cower at every sudden or loud noise.”

Tom paused. Did he trust Tord to do this? Maybe Tord would just beat the shit out of him. Yet, what if he was serious? What if he learned to take care of himself? Now he wouldn’t be so terrified of thoughts of intruders or people walking up to him at the bar.

“Yeah. That’d be cool.” Tord wasted no time, hoping off the couch. “W-wait, right now?” Tom stuttered awkwardly, slipping off the counter. 

“Yes, right now. It’s not like I’m gonna kill ya.” Tord motioned toward Tom. “Come here.” Tom obeyed, walking so he was in front of Tord. “Now, make a fist with your hand.”

Tom followed his order, holding his arm up and curling his hands into a fist. “Like this?” 

“No, no, no- never keep your thumb at the side of your hand. Move it so it’s in front of the bottom of your other fingers- got it?”

 Tom quickly corrected it. “Yeah, I’ve got it,” he answered.

“Alright, so move your feet so they’re shoulder width apart. Like, eight inches,” Tord ordered, watching as Tom shifted. “Your arms need to be held up in position that you’re comfortable to throw a hard, quick punch in- somewhere that’s natural for you, but your elbows do have to be tucked in. Oh, and your wrists need to always be straight, especially when throwing the punch.” 

Tom was standing at an angle, shifting to try and her comfortable. “You can do this without thinking?”

“Yeah, I can.” Tord smirked, a smug look on his face. “Okay, so your lead foot— left, in this case— needs to be at a forty five degree angle, not directly pointing at me, while your other foot should be pointed opposite of you. Bend your knees a little.”

Tom took a deep breath. “Do I have it?” he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. 

“Yeah. Do you wanna throw a punch at— oh. N-never mind.” Tord’s eye widened when he realized what he said.

“It’s okay if it’s not affectionate.” Tom immediately froze. Did he say that? He didn’t realize he was saying that. The voice never agreed to it.

**_Yes I did._ **

_What?_

**_You_** **_just_** **_don’t_** **_remember. I said that._**

“Wait, it’s okay with you throwing punches at me?” Tord cocked his head a little. 

“A-apparently,” he answered, just as confused as Tord was.

“Well, do you want to?”

“Hell yeah.” They both grinned at his answer. 

“Go ahead.” Tom nodded , pulling his elbow back— “Ah, ah- nope. Don’t ‘wind up’ your punch. It doesn’t help.” Tom blinked.

“Right.” He repositioned himself, and, without pulling his elbow back, he aimed a punch for Tord’s chest. The Norwegian ruined the fun by shielding himself with his arm, Tom hitting the bone and pulling his hand back in pain. 

“Two things. One, don’t punch with the flat of your fingers. Use your knuckles— your index and middle finger should be lifted a little more than the others. It should hurt a lot less for you. Also, try and drive your punches farther. Like your punching through me, not at me,” Tord explained, seemingly amused with Tom’s failure.

“Yeah, okay, commie,” he assured, repositioning himself. Making sure his wrists were straight, he went for another punch, hitting the Norwegian’s arm with greater force than before, much less pain shot through his hand. “How’d I do?”

“Good... for a newbie.” Tord snickered, only to be pushed playfully by Tom.

 ** _Watch it,_**  the voice reminded him.

 _What?!_  Tom defended futilely, _I_ _pushed_ _him._   _I_ _don’t_ think _that’s_ _affectionate._

“You wanna try again?” Tord asked him, crossing his arms with a smug smirk.

 ** _You’re_** **_practically_** **_flirting_** **_with_** **_him._** ** _I_** **_can_** **_tell_** **_what_** **_you’re_** **_thinking,_** ** _Tommy. We share a body._**

_Pft, okay, whatever you say._

“Sure,” Tom replied, repositioning himself. 

Tord’s eye twitched, bringing his hand and slapping Tom’s shoulder. “Keep your stance wide,” he reminded harshly, glaring.

“Keep your body lowered,” sang Tom in response, the Brit moving his feet so they were shoulder width apart.

“No Steven Universe references on my turf, you little shit.” Tom’s eyes widened and he was ducking as Tord’s fist was flying toward his face.

“T-Tord! What the hell?!” Tom yelled after he barely dodged the attack. 

“You’re reaction time is amazing,” Tord said in surprise. “People aren’t usually able to avoid a punch like that on their first try. Color me impressed.”

“That doesn’t explain why you tried to punch me!” he spat, taking a few steps back.

“Hey, you can’t just attack; you’ve gotta learn to dodge and block punches, too,” Tord defended futilely, hands flying in a ‘I surrender’ position.

“Yeah, but you didn’t give me a warning!” Tom hissed, crossing his arms.

Tord gave him a glare. “You don’t get a warning. This isn’t a movie, a television show, or a book. People attack you without giving you a single sign.”

Tom sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He rubbed his eyes gently.

Tord’s expression softened. “You angry at me?” 

“No, no,” Tom responded, shaking his head. “I’m not angry. Just... tired.” 

 _ **Yeah, just tired,**_ the voice mocked.

“You wanna watch a movie? I’ll text Edd and Matt,” Tord offered, already pulling out his phone.

Tom blinked in surprise. “Yeah,” he answered. “That’d be really cool. What are we gonna watch?”

Tord was typing as he responded, “You have The Princess Bride, don’t you?” 

Tom grinned. “Hell yeah.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Clarity_

_(n.) the quality of being certain or definite._

Tom grasped at the kitchen table. He had a lazy grin on his face, stumbling toward his pantry. He almost tripped over before he grasped the handle of it, swinging the door open. He squinted, trying to distinguish the two bags. One of them would be full of trash, the other would be full of empty beer cans and other recyclable material. He glanced at the Smirnoff bottle in his hand. 

 ** _Okay_** , **_you_** **_can_** **_do_** **_this_** , **_Tommy_** , the voice said, letting out a sigh. **_It’ll_** **_be_** **_on_** **_the_** **_left_**.

He nodded dumbly, eyes sweeping the pantry for the bag. When his eyes somehow managed to spot it, he leaned over and put the empty bottle into it. When that was done, he giggled from how proud he was.

He turned and began to stumble back toward the living room. He had no idea what time it was, but it had to be late, because when he looked outside the only light source was the moon. And some streetlights, of course. 

His hands latched onto the couch, trying not to giggle to himself. What did he even find funny? Ah, who gives a shit, he’s happy right now! That’s pretty rare, so he may as well enjoy it while it lasts!

He let out another wild giggle, jumping on the couch. Where did Tord put the remote? He began to look for it, letting out a sloppy hum of a song he heard on the radio. Where did the stupid commie put the stupid remote?

Oh.

Yeah, maybe on the television stand would be a good place to look. 

He stood and began to slowly shamble toward it, carefully placing his feet in front of him. He didn’t want to fall now! That’d be no fun!

When he got the remote, he launched himself back on the couch, all traces of previous caution gone. He just wanted to watch some shitty movie, something he could laugh at while he was drunk. He pressed the power button, the television flickering to life. 

“Magic!” He couldn’t help but gasp.

 _ **Tommy**_. _**You’re**_ **_drunk_**. **_You’ve_** **_seen_** **_the_** **_T_**. ** _V_**. **_turn_** **_on_** **_many_** **_times_**.

He let out another giggle, snuggling further into a catch. “Shut y-your mouth!” He had to pause from the laughter. “It’s st- it’s still reaaaaallly cool!”

There was a knock at his door, but he continued to watch the shitty comedy that was playing. The knock came again, this time louder.

 ** _Get_** **_the_** _**door**_.

“But I’m tiireeed!” he whined in response.

**_If you’re going to ignore them, at least keep your voice down and pretend to be asleep._ **

“Ri-right, my mistake.” He clamped his mouth shut to keep another giggle from escaping.

“Tom? I’m going to come in,” a voice called. Tom was already beginning to doze off, a yawn escaping him. Yeah, he was really drunk. He could hear the door open. Closing his eyes, he shifted so he was laying, arm dangling off the side. He drifted off into sleep, forgetting about the extra person in his apartment.

Tord gently closed the door behind him. He was creeping toward the living room, the television playing. Was Tom asleep? When he passed the couch, he nodded in confirmation. The Brit’s eyes were closed, his breathing soft. He looked serene, calm. 

Vulnerable.

“Don’t bother us...,” Tom said tiredly, causing Tord to snap his head up as he settled on the chair.

“What?”

No response. Tord was a little confused; Tom was obviously asleep. 

Then it hit him.

“Are you sleep-talking?”

“Tired,” he said again, causing Tord to tilt his head. He wasn’t using a British accent.

“Why do you have an American accent?” Tord was grinning.

Tom shifted slightly. “Too tired,” he slurred, eyebrows scrunching. Tord couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Too tired to put on your regular accent?”

 “Tommy and I are goin’ sleep now.” Tom went quiet, Tord trying to stifle his laughter. He just straight-up had a conversation with a sleep-talking Tom. Well, it wasn’t really a conversation. Tom just talked about being tired.

He leaned back into the armchair. He would move Tom back into his bedroom, but frankly, he was afraid of what Tom would do to him. He made it clear that Tord wasn’t welcomed inside his bedroom.

How had Tom even fallen asleep on the couch, anyway? Tord sighed softly, shaking his head. At least he was sleeping. He needed it. 

Did he still have his bass?

Oh, what was Tord thinking? This was Tom. Of course he still has his bass, even if he had to build it from scraps after the... incident. He touched his metal arm self-consciously at the reminder, only to move it to his eyepatch. He closed his eye.

What had he been thinking? Coming back like that? It cost him an arm, an eye, and his good looks. Well, Tom would say he never had any in the first place, but he’s Tom.

He let his thoughts drift to the Brit.

Tom’s reaction time was amazing. He could dodge a punch with no prior training. He’d have to teach Tom to have nerves of steel, of course. Tom could be really useful if he stopped being a little bitch all the time. Not to mention, he had to do something about... ‘the voice’. Probably not a good thing for Tom to have.

He put his head on his hand, elbow resting on the chair’s arm, and began to doze off himself.

He woke hours later to a loud thud and Tom shouting, ” _Shit_!” Tord’s eye snapped open in a slight panic, only to see Tom laying on the ground. Sunlight was pouring in through the window, giving Tord a perfect view of Tom’s annoyed face. His eyes were closed, eyebrows scrunched up angrily.

“Pft... are you okay, Thomas?” He jumped when Tord spoke, quickly pulling himself up. His chest was moving rapidly, breaths sharp.

“When the fuck did you...?” Tom winced before he finished his sentence, an unsteady hand grabbing the edge of the coffee table. Tord watched with a grin, cracking his neck, muscles stiff.

“Last night. You were asleep on the couch with a shitty romcom playing.” Tom squinted as he stood. 

“I can’t believe I passed out on the couch,” he hissed, placing a hand on his head.

“You got drunk again?” Tord cocked his head to the left. Groggily, Tom began to walk toward the kitchen. 

Tord couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The Brit was too much to handle. How did he manage to keep this place clean? Even if he was barely out of his room, he was a drunk. He was bound to have trashed the place at least a few times. He heard the sink turn on, followed by Tom coughing slightly. 

“You alright in there?” he called, stretching out his arms. There was no verbal response, only the sound of Tom’s footsteps as he walked back into the living room.

“Yeah, I just have to wait for the ibuprofen to kick in,” he assured. “Did you sleep on the chair?

“Yep,” Tord replied, a cocky grin on his face. “I didn’t have the heart to move you.”

“You don’t have a heart.” Tom pressed his fingers into his forehead, yawning. “What time is it?” 

Tord glanced at the clock. “It’s about eleven. Why?”

Tom shrugged, collapsing on the couch. He let out another yawn, covering his mouth. “You know, there’s something I’ve always wondered.” Tord hummed, waiting patiently. “Are we really... free?”

Tord paused, trying not to look surprised. “What brought this on?”

 “A shit ton of nights of not sleeping.” Tom let one of his arms fall off the sofa, laying.

“Why are you asking?” 

“Well, I don’t know... I just... we’re slaves to other people’s opinions.”

“What?”

“I know that sounds stupid, but think about it! Racism, sexism, homophobia... people would have equal rights if it wasn’t for other people’s opinions. It’s debated on whether or not they get basic human rights. That’s fucked up, isn’t it? The only true freedom we have is death. Death is the only thing that doesn’t discriminate.”

Tord coughed gently after a pause. “That’s... really deep?”

“Can you blame me?” Tom asked, sounding overly bored.

“It’s too early for this three-am tumblr bullshit,” Tord joked gently, eye closing as he leaned back. 

“Hah. Yeah, you’re right.” Tom put on a smile.

A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!!! I’m attempting to... well, actually try on Hiraeth, so it’s taking some time. I’m enjoying it, though, and I hope you guys are too! Have a nice day, everyone! :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!!! Warning!!! There's self harm in this and I just really don't want anybody to be triggered so!!!

_Desolate_

_(adj.) (of a place) deserted of people and in a state of bleak and dismal emptiness._

Tom had tried to fix himself before. It didn’t turn out well, but he’s tried. More than once. He just didn’t want Edd or Matt to know. Now they do. Now they do and they’re forcing him to talk about his feelings and he is not a big fan of it.   
  
They were all on Edd’s couch— Tord, too. Matt had his legs crossed, right next to Tom. Edd was next in line, sitting in a crisscross position. Tord was sitting like a regular person.   
  
They hadn’t really forgiven Tord yet. They still speak to him dryly, act dismissive. They only seem to open up to him when they’re talking to Tom. He doesn’t know why.   
  
_**They’re waiting for you to speak.** _   
  
“S-sorry,” he blurted, more to the voice than anyone else. His friends didn’t respond, just waited for him to continue. Tom took a deep breath. “I think I was supposed to be happy. That probably sounds stupid, but I think I was. Then my brain kinda came crashing down on me, sending me flying into the abyss.   
  
It’s not that I’m sad all the time. I’m kinda just... empty. Yeah. Empty. A lot of it is being happy with you guys, then going home and just staring at the wall for an hour, or maybe sleeping. But I don’t really sleep anymore. Like, it’s an escape, but it’s not easy to get to. Either I’m telling myself that I’m worthless or whatever, maybe the voice is talking to me, or maybe the noises of my past just won’t go quiet. Whatever way, it’s hard to sleep. I mean, even when I do sleep, it’s usually filled with nightmares. A lot of them.   
  
Has anyone noticed that hangman is a fucked up game? But it does teach us a lesson. Some shit we say can kill others, and I think that’s kinda what happened with me. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not saying you have to be bullied like I was to be depressed, I’m just saying that... that it can make it worse. Or does it? I don’t know.   
  
Speaking of depression, I’m probably not even depressed. Just probably looking for attention, maybe even faking it. I have had the words ‘don’t self-diagnose’ shoved down my throat so many times that I refuse to go to a doctor or whatever, because, hey, I’m probably faking it anyway. They’re just episodes of me being stupid.   
  
Plus, I have some stupid fucking triggers that put me into this. Like, I can’t read. I can’t read without getting a really unsettling feeling and I have to shut myself away for a few hours, only to leave and act like it never happened. It’s so much easier to forget than confront your problems.”   
  
Everyone was dead quiet. Tom closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see their faces. Their expressions of disgust, the way their face would contort right before they leave. He was terrified they were going to leave him. Was he shaking? Oh, god, he was shaking.   
  
Matt cleared his throat. “I don’t think we understand. I don’t think we can. But when I say I’ll be here for you, whether I understand it or not, I think I speak for everyone.” He put his hand on Tom’s leg, rubbing his thumb in a soothing motion.   
  
“Thanks,” Tom replied, barely keeping the bitterness out of his voice. “Can I leave now?” They all glanced at each other with worry before nodding. Tom immediately stood, Tord following him at a slower pace. Tom began to rush out of Edd’s apartment, his feet pattering on the tile. He just wanted to get out and curl up with a bottle of Smirnoff. Maybe even pace. Knowing Tord was following him, he kept his door open behind him.   
  
“Tom!” Tord called after him. He ignored him. He just wanted a break. He entered the kitchen, right in front of his cabinets. He opened them and reached for a bottle. “Tom, you’re going to get drunk?”   
  
He took his flask out of his pocket, opened the Smirnoff bottle. “Yeah. I really need to.” He gently cleared his throat, pouring the vodka into the flask. He wasn’t expecting Tord to grab it out of his hands, his expression unrecognizable. “Tord, what the fuck?!” Tom shouted desperately, reaching for the flask as Tord held it as high as he could.   
  
Stupidly tall commie fucker.

  
“I’ll give it to you if you promise me one thing.” Tord was staring at Tom steadily, his fingers squeezing the flask.  
  
“What? What is it?” Tom slowed his frantic movements, though his eyes stayed wide with concern and kept tapping his foot.   
  
“Promise to go to the range with me?”  
  
Tom froze. “The range?”  
  
“Yeah, the shooting range,” Tord responded, impatiently waiting for Tom’s answer.   
  
Tom was quietly weighing his options. He wasn’t a big fan of guns. Like, at all. He was kinda scared of them. They were loud and dangerous and could kill people. On the other hand, he really needed his fucking flask. Like, _really_ needed it. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll go, I promise. Just give me the damn thing, will ya?”

A grin made its way onto Tord’s face as he handed Tom the flask. “Don’t go back on your promise.”

_**You’re pretty good with guns, Tommy. He’s probably going to use you for that fact.** _

“Shut up.” Tom took a swig of his flask. Honestly, he wasn’t sure himself if he was talking to the voice or Tord. It didn’t really matter, because both of them took the hint. The voice went quiet and Tord put his hands up, turning to walk away.

Finally. He was alone.

Tom closed his eyes and began to drink.

He drank and he drank and he drank.

He didn’t know how long he had been drinking or how many times he had refilled his flask. He was dizzy and for some reason he wasn’t happy like usual and he didn’t like it. His eyebrows furrowed as he made his way to the bathroom. Was Tord still here? Oh, who was he kidding. He doesn’t care. He just wants to go numb for now. To disappear. He quietly closed the door. He didn’t want to alert Tord, because if the Norwegian found out what he was about to do… well, he wouldn’t be happy to say the least.

Making sure it was locked(which took _way_ too much effort), he got on his knees to open the area under the sink. Sure, they took away his old one, but he doubts they checked for new ones. He opened it, eyes searching for it. A couple of towels, cotton balls, q tips, and some eye drops. Unsteadily, he moved the towels, and, boom. There it was. Underneath the towels, there lay a box of his most prized possessions.

Razors.

He grabbed one from the box, his fingers gently exploring the cool metal. It felt nice on his fingers. He gently traced the tip with his index finger, blood gently began to show from the new cut. It felt fucking fantastic. He began to move quickly, placing the blade on the sink counter as he closed the cabinet. He was shoving his clothes off, one hand turning the shower handle. Once he had completely shed his clothes, he grabbed the razor and stepped inside, closing the curtain behind him.

Cold water hit his skin, settling his nerves. In a moment, all of his troubles would be washed away, just like the blood will. He took a deep breath to calm his unsteady hands. He felt wobbly, because good lord he’s still drunk as hell. He placed the razor on his thigh, and for a moment, he hesitated.

_**Go on.** _

With that, he cut the area in one quick, neat swipe. The blood immediately began to drip from the wound. The pain burned, and god, he felt in control. He was in control of his pain for once. Blood ran down his leg, water forcing it down the drain. The sight drove him to continue, so he grasped at the wall as he began to slash up his thigh. He was replacing old scars with new ones. His breaths were sharp as he went numb. The pain felt good. The emotional numbness felt good. He watched the blood drip off his leg, the water washing it away.

He dropped the razor when someone knocked on the door.

“You okay, Thomas? You’ve been in there longer than you think,” Tord called, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Tom called in response, picking up the razor.

“Well, when you’re done, come out and eat.” Tord went silent, and Tom assumed he had walked away. Tom reached over and turned off the water, pushing the curtains to the side as he exited the shower. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around himself. He began to put pressure on his thigh using the towel as he opened his cabinet. He had bandages somewhere in it. His hands shuffled the now almost empty cabinet. The only things in it were toothpaste, hair gel, earrings, a small mirror, and deodorant.  Ah, nope! His bandages were there, too.

He pulled the bandages out, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He began to wrap them around his bleeding thigh, wincing slightly. Luckily, the bandages stuck automatically, so he didn’t have to worry about tying them.

After he was sure they were on tight enough, he began to get dressed. His stomach rumbled, but he wasn’t really in the mood to eat. When he finished, pulling the much too big sweatshirt over himself. He opened the bathroom door, trying his best not to limp out. He continued down the hall, peeking into the kitchen. Tord, by the sound of it, was out in the living room, watching television. There was a paper plate with mac and cheese on it.

Walking over, he let out a soft sigh. He grabbed the plate and walked into the pantry, throwing it in the trash can. His stomach protested, but he ignored it. His body may be hungry, but the thought of eating made him want to throw up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, fUcKeRs

_Malice_

_(n.) the intention or desire to do evil; ill intention._

“Tom, wake up.”

Who the hell?

“Thomas, I have ibuprofen and water. Get your ass up.”

Ah, yes.

Tord.

He blearily blinked open his eyes, rolling over. The sunlight filtering through the curtains forced him to squint.

“Where am I and what time is it? Also, shut the god damn curtain.” Tom placed an arm over his eyes.

“It’s two in the afternoon and you passed out in the hallway,” Tord answered, poking Tom’s cheek.

Tom removed his arm, sitting up shakily. Tord was bent down, staring at Tom with a cocked eyebrow. “You said you had ibuprofen?”

Tord let out a small chuckle, handing him two bright red pills. “The water is next to you. I put it down.” He wearily looked down at the glass before taking the pills out of Tord’s hand. The Norwegian was watching him with an overly smug grin.

He sent a glare at Tord, downing the pills and half of his water. He slammed the glass on the ground, slightly soaking his hoodie sleeves from the splash, and said, “Fuck you.”

“Did you just make a vine reference?”

“Excuse my potty mouth— _shut the fuck up.”_

Tord sighed, placing his face in his hands. “You’re a disappointment.”

“Yes,” Tom agreed, a small smile flickering across his face. “So, why did you wake me up?” 

“You promised to go to the range with me.”

Tom stiffened. “That I did.” He skeptically glanced at Tord. “You want to go right now, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. As soon as you’re ready,” Tord replied, standing up. He stuck out a hand to help Tom. 

“Do I look okay?” He grabbed Tord’s hand and pulled himself up.

“Actually, you look pretty okay to go out in public, if you just want to leave right now,” he said, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the left slightly.

“You look like a dog doing that. Stop.” Tom brushed himself off. “Yeah, we can leave right now. How we gonna go?”

“Private jet.” 

“No.” 

They both started laughing. Nothing can bring people together like vines can. And Brandon Rogers. 

“I figured I’d drive there,” Tord explained a moment after their laughter ended.

Tom nodded in agreement. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

 “Alright, Tom. The pistol I’m handing you is _loaded_ , so aim it down. Also, it’s ready to be fired.” Tom nodded slowly, eyeing the gun Tord was holding out. He took it from Tord’s hand gently, right hand clutching the high part of the grip. “The finger you’re shooting with should not be on the trigger. Put it on the space above, and your thumb on the opposite side in the same position.”

“I know how to work a gun,” Tom responded, his right hand already in the position Tord described. He placed his other hand on the gun as well. 

Tord snickered slightly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You do have some experience.” He pointed toward the target. It was in the shape of a human.

“ _Haha_ , fuck off,” Tom responded sarcastically. He let out a deep breath, lifting his arms and taking aim. He focused on the target, lining his vision with the head. He moved his finger to the trigger, and pressed it. The recoil forced his arm back slightly. He shook himself gently, lowering the gun.

Damn.

He missed.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Thomas.” Tord sounded more annoyed than Tom expected. Then, the Brit felt arms placing themselves on his own, grabbing his wrists.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tom’s face was becoming red. 

“I’m helping you,” Tord replied. He forced Tom’s arm to shift. “You need to be looking through the gun sights, not at the target itself.”

“R-right,” Tom stuttered. He followed Tord’s order without a question. The Norwegian was scary when he was like this.

“Calm down. I’m not gonna stab you,” Tord hissed, grip tightening on Tom’s wrist. 

Yeah, fear is totally the problem here. 

**_Watch it, Tommy. Right now, you can’t be thinking about how gay you are for Tord, you need to be impressing him._ **

_I thought you didn’t like Tord._

**_I-I don’t! Now focus!_**  

“Thomas, pay attention.”

“Right!” Tom repeated, trying not to sound panicked.

“What did I say? Calm down. You’re shooting a gun at a target. There is nothing to be nervous about,” Tord said, his tone slightly menacing. Tom took another deep breath. The commie was right. “Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured confidently. He was calmer now. Tord leaned in slightly. 

“Pull the trigger.”

Tom did as he was told. Both of their arms recoiled. He was holding his breath as Tord released him, taking a step back.

“Would you look at that.” Tord was grinning smugly when Tom placed the gun down and turned to him. He glanced at the target, eyes widening with shock.

Bullseye.

Right in the head.

“I knew you had it you,” Tord purred proudly, patting Tom on the back.

  ** _Look at you! You didn’t fail for once!_**  

“I didn’t,” Tom replied to Tord breathily, voice quiet. 

“Don’t take your skills for granted, Tom. I know I won’t.” He trailed his fingers across Tom’s back a little longer than he should have. The voice began to growl in warning, so Tom jumped away before the voice hurt him.

“What is that supposed to mean, you commie?” Tom glared at Tord, tapping his foot.

“It just means I’m impressed,” Tord replied, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“You know I don’t believe you, right?” Tom crossed his arms, still keeping his stare on the Norwegian.

“Hey, whether you do or not, I’m just saying you are pretty good at handling a gun. A prodigy, even,” Tord said, watching Tom closely. 

 ** _Don’t do anything different,_** the voice ordered. **_He’s watching you for a change. Don’t give him the satisfaction._**

Tom kept his face cool. The voice may be a little bitch—

**_Hey, I heard that!_ **

 —but he always helped Tom with Tord. So, he mind as well listen to him.

“Thanks,” Tom replied dryly. Tord raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

The Norwegian took a step toward Tom. “You did so well that I have a surprise for you.”

“That sounded really fucking creepy,” Tom responded, making sure he didn’t step back. He was standing his ground.

Tord huffed. “Shut up. It’s tomorrow. You’ll thank me when you see it, though you’ll have to be in the car with me again.” 

“Whatever.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Apathetic_

_(adj.) showing or feeling no interest, enthusiasm, or concern._

Tom glanced at Tord with an eyebrow as the Norwegian stopped the car. Tom opened the truck door and slid out, the ground bumpy. They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. He closed the door behind him, walking toward the building they stopped at. It was a creepy warehouse, unsurprisingly. Either Tord was gonna murder him here or he’s got some serious shit to hide.

“Let me guess, is there a shallow grave out back and the warehouse is soundproof?” he mused, eyes darting to Tord. He was already walking toward the door, 

“Yep,” Tord replied cheerfully. Tom raised an eyebrow before he continued. “Besides, you’d probably be more creeped out if it was a cozy cottage.”

“And you can’t even open a menu,” Tom muttered, Tord chuckling gently. The Brit hurried to catch up to him, as he had stopped at the door. 

“I’m surprised you know SAO Abridged. I thought you hated anime.” Tord tilted his head slightly.

“SAO Abridged is a god among anime,” he responded, finally side by side with Tord. “Are we gonna go inside or what?”

“Well, yes, but you’ll have to promise me something first,” Tord said, tapping his fingers against his arm.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “Depends on what it is.” 

Tord began to tap his foot. “You can’t scream or run. I won’t murder you if you back out— if you keep quiet, that is.” A small glare was on his face. 

Tom let out a high-pitched laugh. “Y-yeah, whatever you say, commie.” Tord tightened his grasp on his bag.

“I said _promise_ , Tom,” he snarled, taking a step forward. Tom jumped back, eyes widening.

“Yeah, I promise I won’t rat you out for whatever— for whatever batshit crazy thing you have in—in there.” Tom was trying to stay calm, but his stuttering kinda giving away his fear. 

Tord’s demeanor changed immediately. He was back to his smug grin, head held high. “Good! Hopefully you’ll enjoy my gift.” He pulled the door open.

Tom was frozen in one spot.

Someone was tied up. It was too dark to tell who, but someone was tied up. 

“Come, come! Don’t be shy!” Tord laughed joyfully, band reaching to grab Tom’s arm. “He can’t hurt you, not when he’s tied up like this.” 

Tom struggled as Tord dragged him toward the man. “What the fuck, you commie? Did you kidnap someone?!” Tom shouted, eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, not just somebody.” Tord finally pulled him in front of the man, clicking a flashlight on(since when did Tord have a flashlight?) and shined it on his face.

Tom felt like throwing up. He slapped a hand over his mouth, his movement stopping.

“It’s David!”

Tom just stared. David’s black hair was greasy, and every inch of him was covered in bruises and scratches. Dried blood covered the left side of his face.

“What? You’re not gonna thank me?” Tord pouted, poking Tom’s tense arm. “I just gift-wrapped your ass of a step-dad for you.”

“Why the hell would I thank you?” Tom asked in a shaky voice. “I wanted to never see his face ever again.”

David opened his eyes slightly. “Yes, and we can make that happen! You just have to _cooperate_ with me,” he said perkily. “If we don’t rid of him, you’re bound to clash at some point— but we can prevent that, can’t we, Thomas?”

Tom faltered.

David finally seemed to wake completely. He was whining and struggling against his restraints, though cloth was stuck between his mouth was preventing him from begging for his life.

His restraints.

He restrained Tom from freedom. He restrained Tom from being happy. He... he restrained Tom because of his opinion. 

 _HIS_ _OPINION_.

“I want... I want to talk to him.” Tom was monotone, but the dark look on his face made Tord chuckle.

“That’ll be no problem,” he purred, rummaging throw his bag. He pulled out a knife that was a little bit too long and sharp to be socially acceptable. Bending down to cut the cloth, David squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth to scream.

“No one will hear you,” Tom interrupted.

David opened his eyes. A look of relief covered his face. “Oh, thank Jehovah. Thomas, you’ve got to get me out of here—“ 

” _Shut_ _up_.” Tom kicked David’s side as hard as he could. His breathing was ragged. Tord raised an eyebrow and took a few steps back. 

“Thomas, please— Jehovah would bless you if you’d just help me! I am your _father_ , and you are my _son!_ ” David cried desperately, curling up.

“Your son? I’m your _son!?_ ” Tom was raising his voice, boiling with rage. _”I thought I was a demon! A Satan worshipper, one that you would fuck, and starve, and hit, and choke, and push, and scream at?!”_

“I was just trying to teach you Jehovah’s way!” David defended, eyes wide with terror.

“No, you just wanted to abuse me for something as stupid as my eyes!” He delivered another blow. “You just wanted to see me suffer!” Another blow. “And to use me as a _toy!”_

 ** _Well, well, well. I had no idea you were capable of this. I’m impressed._**  

“Shut the fuck up!” Tom pressed his palms into his forehead, letting out a frustrated shout as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was finally letting go of his pent-up anger.

Anger he didn’t even know he had.

“Tom?” 

He opened his eyes, relaxing slightly at Tord’s voice.

“Tom.” 

He let out a breath, moving his head to Tord. 

Tord was holding out a pistol. 

“End it. End it now so he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Tom reached out a shaky hand.

He could finally end it. End David. End David like Tord ended Mike.

He grabbed the pistol and clicked the safety off. He raised his arm and shoved the pistol into the side of David’s head.

“Please, Thomas... don’t hurt me. I’ve already lost so much. I’ve lost Elizabeth and Mike and I’ve lost you, too.”

Tom stopped. He had the gun pressed against David’s head, but when he mentioned Miss, Tom had to stop.

Could he kill another person in cold blood?

“Tom!” Tord hissed, causing him to snap his head up. Tord looked pissed.

“Sorry, I just...” Tom glanced between the two. Tord seemed to relax, replacing his menacing look with a sweet one.

“Pull the trigger, Tom. Nobody else is going to do it for you. Don’t hesitate, just shoot.”

 ** _Maybe... you_ should _just pull the trigger._**  

He listened.

David let out a horrified scream, blood spraying on Tom’s hands. David slumped over and fell to the ground.

 “Good boy.”


	10. Chapter 10

_Hostility_

_(n.) hostile behavior; unfriendliness or opposition._

“Tom?”

He blinked his eyes open, rolling over.

“Tom, you’ve been in there for days.”

He sat up warily.

His stomach rumbled.

“You haven’t even come out to get something to eat.”

He pushed himself off his bed, bare feet pressing against clothes.

“Come on, Tom. Get some fresh air. We could go to Stella Park if you want to?”

He could hear the door knob rattle as Tord tried to open it.

He wobbled as he stood. 

“I’m getting Edd and Matt.”

“N-no!”

He clasped his hands around his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak, but he couldn’t let Edd and Matt know what was happening.

“Tord, you can’t!”

“Then come out. You can’t wallow inside of your room forever.”

Gulping, he took unsteady steps toward the door.

He was gripping the knob. He knew he had to open the door, but he didn’t want to. If he did, Tord would laugh at him. 

“We don’t have all day, Thomas. I’m going to leave right now.”

With that, he opened the door.

Tord was already walking down the hallway.

Tom took a few steps forward, closing the door behind him.

He turned around, perking an eyebrow.

“Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.” He began to laugh, Tom self-consciously pulling his sweatshirt over his boxers.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

For a moment, he thought he heard a little bit of concern in Tord’s voice.

He mentally shook his stupidity off.

Shaking his head gently, he watched as Tord took a step toward him.

“That’s fine. You look cute in so little clothing, anyway.”

Tom’s face burst into flames, standing still as Tord cupped his cheek, thumb brushing gently across his lips. Tord was leaning in slightly, a smug grin on his face.

He did, however, jump away when a jolt of pain was sent flying up his spine.

Tord snorted. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Tom just nodded timidly.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as they stood completely still. Tord finally sighed, grabbing Tom’s hoodie sleeve and tugging him along as he began to walk down the hallway.

“Tom, you’ve got to get over what happened already. It’s been a week.”

Silence. He kept his head down.

“He deserves what he got. You were very brave for doing what you did.” Tord sat them down on the couch, looking at Tom with a sincere expression. “I’m proud of you.”

Tom slowly raised his head. “...you think complimenting me will help?”

“It got you to talk. That’s better than before.” Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “Look, Tom. I know you’re upset about David, but give me one good reason why you shouldn’t have shot him.”

“Because he’s human! Even if he _did_ deserve what he got, he was still human. And I killed a person, and this time, it wasn’t self-defense or an accident. I can’t... I don’t know what made me do it.”

“So you wanted him to live out the rest of his life in satisfaction and happiness, despite what he’d done to you?”

Tom froze.

“Do you think he deserved a happy life?”

“N-no, of course not!” Tom said quickly, eyes widening.

Tord was too close for comfort, face full of malice. “So why are you blaming yourself? If you had walked out there without doing something, you would’ve let that man walk free to hurt another person. Do you know what you did? You saved a person, probably multiple people, by killing him. Do you understand me, Thomas?”

“Y-yes! I-I understand, si- uh, Tord!” Tom stuttered out in a panic, arm raising to protect himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He sat there, completely still until he heard Tord begin to laugh. He open his eyes and moved his arm slightly so he could see Tord. The Norwegian had thrown his head back, laughing like an idiot.

“T-Tord...?”

“Did you almost call me _’sir’?”_

Shit.

Tom tensed his shoulders, shrinking away from Tord.

“I... I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry.”

“Aw, it’s okay, Tommy!” Tord leaned forward and pat Tom’s head. “I quite like the nickname, anyway.”

Tom forced himself to relax. Tord wasn’t angry with him. Everything was okay. Just... go back to being your normal self. “You _want_ me to call you sir?” he asked mockingly.

“I’m just saying that I wouldn’t mind it!” Tord replied, hands flying up in surrender.

_**Would it... would it make him happy?** _

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. That was a weird question.

_**Just ask him!** _

“Would it, uh, make you happy?”

Tord raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Yes it would.”

_**Do it. Make him happy.** _

“W-what...? No!” Tom mumbled under his breath, turning his head away from Tord. The Norwegian was watching him with interest.

_**I̶̪͔͆̑͊̑͠ ̵̡̭̺̳͍̀͝Š̸̡̰͔̜̖Ą̶̲̬̉̑͗Į̶̥̔́̓Ḋ̴̦ ̵͜͝D̶̨̲̝̭̩̉̇̀̓Ȏ̶̱͖̬͛̒ ̷̺̞͚͚͊̀I̶̳͍̭͑̎̓T̸̨͉̮̘͊̍̅̕.̵̬̏͠** _

Tom immediately yelped in pain, Tord’s eyes widening as he jumped to Tom. “Tom? Tom?! Are you alright?!”

_**Now look at what you did! You made him worry! This is your fault, Thomas!** _

Tom was cringing away from Tord, breaths sharp, eyes squeezing shut.

_**Tom, apologize for making him worry.** _

“Tom, are you alright?”

His voice was full of concern. Tom opened his eyes and realized how panicked and worried Tord looked.

”Tom?”

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. I’m sorry for making you worry... s-sir.”

Tord sighed in relief and slight annoyance. “You don’t have to call me sir if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“But—”

Tom shut his mouth. He wasn’t sure if the voice would be okay if he was truthful.

“Tom, be honest with me.”

_**It’s okay! He’d be mad if we lied.** _

“The voice... he, uh...” Tom looked away. “He wants... to make you happy, and if calling you... _’sir’_ is what it takes... then he’s making me do that.”

Tord began to grin. “Well, I can’t complain about that.”

“Don’t mock me for this, you commie,” Tom spat quickly, snapping his head to face Tord.

“Question: if he is so adamant on making me happy, why can’t I touch you?”

Tom blinked.

Yeah, that didn’t really make sense.

_**I’m... I... I’m too stubborn to change my mind.** _

“He’s too stubborn to change his mind, apparently,” Tom explained, though he didn’t really understand it.

“Awh, man... please? It’d make me happy!” Tord pouted.

_**Oh my god...** _

_Why the hell would being able to touch me make him happy? That’s so... so..._

_**Hot!** _  

_No! Embarrassing!_

“Tom? You’re blushing.”

“What?” He immediately slapped his cheeks to hide it. “I’m not. You’re lying.” 

“You’re _blushing!”_ he teased, leaning in. “So...?”

“‘So’ what?” He moved his head away from Tord, removing his hands and placing them on the couch.

“What did he say? Can I touch you now?”

_**Y-yes... if it’d make him happy...** _

“Yeah.”

He felt warm fingers on his face as they softly trailed across his cheek. Then, two were on his chin, forcing him to look at Tord. 

He leaned in so his forehead was pressed against Tom’s. The Brit was frozen, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Do you sill feel guilty for giving David what he deserved?” 

He could feel Tord’s hot breath on his skin. “No, sir.” 

“Good.”

Then, Tord pressed his lips into Tom’s.

His breathing stopped.

God, wasn’t he supposed to hate Tord? Wasn’t the voice supposed to hate Tord?

_**Look... Tord changed from before he left. He went from bastard to potential mate. He’s hot now.** _

_Well, I... I can’t deny that._

Tord pulled back. “You’re not a very good kisser, you know,” he mocked, wrapping his arms around Tom’s waist.

“You caught me off guard. I can do better.”

“Really? So you want me to kiss you again?”

Tom bit his lip. “...yes.”

“What’s the magic word?” He shifted his hand, sliding it down Tom’s neck.

“Please?”

“No, no the _other_ word; the one that makes me happy?”

 _”Fuck..._ please, sir?”

“Good boy.”

He leaned in once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter sucks Ive pulled two all nighters in a row and I was a little tired when i wrote this  
> also, I’m debating on writing s smut based on this chapter and posting in separately, mainly cuz I’m sticking to my one rule of “no direct smut”


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorrow_

_(n.) unhappiness, woe._

Sunlight fluttered through the blinds of the window, basking the living room in a calm, yellow light.

 

Tord’s stomach was flushed against Tom’s back, his arm wrapped around the Brit protectively. Tord watched as his chest rose softly, his other hand petting his hair.

 

Tord smiled gently at him. He looked so sweet, so serene as he slept. And Tord loved it. He loved how Tom looked so pure, eyes closed.

 

They had decided to just sleep on the living room floor after they had their fun, given the fact Tom’s bed was too messy for them to share. So, they laid out a blanket and a couple of pillows and slept together.

 

It was nice. Tord enjoyed it.

 

Then, Tom jolted awake, his eyes snapping open. Tord raised an eyebrow as Tom brought a hand up to his face, pressing his palm against his forehead.

 

“Good morning, _min kjære.”_

 

Tom squinted, shaking his head gently. “Morning, Tord.”

 

He placed a hand on Tom’s neck. “Are you alright?”

 

Tom shrugged. “Just a headache,” he explained, rolling over to face Tord.

 

Tord leaned in so his nose was touching the Brit’s. “Hi.”

 

Tom let out a small laugh. “You’re so dumb sometimes.” Despite the insult, Tom was grinning.

 

“Oh really?” Tord mocked and in a moment, he shifted Tom’s shirt up and let his fingers dance up and down Tom’s side.

 

The Brit immediately responded with a squeal, pushing away from Tord. “No, that’s not fair!” he said with a laugh.

 

Tord climbed on top of Tom, grinning like an idiot as he added his other hand into the fray. “If you apologize, maybe I’ll stop,” he teased, but he wasn’t sure if the Brit heard him.

 

“Never!” Tom said, wiggling under Tord.

 

His hands flew under Tom’s shirt, the Brit retaliating with a screech of delight. Well, not really delight, but the way he was giggling made it seem so. “Come on, Thomas, give in!” he cooed, refusing to quit his attacks as Tom’s toes curled.

 

Tom let out one more screech before crying out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” while giggling and twisting under Tord.

 

He let out a laugh of his own, rolling off of Tom. “I can’t believe you gave up that easily.”

 

Tom glared at Tord, pouting. “I _hate_ being tickled,” he whined, and a part of Tord whispered, _cute_.

 

He shook the thought off. “Oh, but you looked so delectable wiggling underneath me!” he cooed, pushing his forehead against Tom’s.

 

Tom’s face turned as red as a tomato, eyes widening. “Do you always have to say such perverted things?” he said.

 

Tord laughed gently. “You’re even more adorable when you’re red.”

 

The Brit only responded by pressing his lips against Tord, though the kiss ended just as quick as it started.

 

A simple peck in the lips, it seemed.

 

He would have to work on that.

 

Tom stood unsteadily, letting out a soft sigh.

 

“Are you going to grab painkillers?” he asked curiously as he stood as well.

 

“Those don’t work with this kind of headache.”

 

Tord raised his eyebrows but didn’t respond, following Tom into the kitchen. “Then what are you doing?”

 

Tom snorted. “Are you gonna always follow me around?”

 

“Yup,” Tord responded cheerfully, rushing past Tom so he could walk backwards and face him.

 

Tom let out a sigh, crossing his arms. “Can’t I make breakfast in peace?”

 

Tord’s eyes lit up. “You should let me cook,” he offered, practically skipping.

 

“You don’t have to do everything for me, you know,” Tom snapped, glaring at Tord with a passion.

 

Tord almost sputtered before an excellent excuse came to his mind. “You said you had a headache, right? Then just sit down and relax; I’ll make pancakes!”

 

Tom’s head shot up. “Oh my god, I love your pancakes.”

 

A grin snaked its way up his face. “Then sit back and let me do the work, sweetheart.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

He glanced at Tom as he got to work, basking in Tom’s expression.After a couple of moments, he spoke. “You’re good with knives, correct?”

 

Tom hummed gently. “Yeah. Why’d ya wanna know?” he asked, tilting his head to the right.

 

“I was thinking about it. You’re pretty fantastic at fighting, Tom. You’re a natural.”

 

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to trick me by complimenting me?”

 

Tord let out a soft laugh as he flipped the two pancakes in the pan.

 

Don’t question it.

 

“I’m not trying to trick you, Thomas. You just need to accept the compliment. If you continue training with me, you may just become stronger than you could ever believe.”

 

He glanced at Tom and grinned when he saw the Brit’s flustered face. “Why are you complimenting me all of the sudden?”

 

“Because you deserve to know.” He turned and noticed how Tom was staring at him. “What?”

 

“You’re weird.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Tord turned back to the breakfast he was making as he waited for an answer. “You go from hating me to complimenting the next day.”

 

He let out a short laugh. “You went from hating me to liking me in a matter of three weeks.”

 

Not that Tord could blame the Brit, of course.

 

He had been planning this for some time now.

 

Tom only let out a noise of agreement as Tord turned off the stove, reaching toward the cupboard for paper plates.

 

“You want syrup?” he asked as he placed two plates down, putting a pancake on each.

 

“Syrup is lame.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

He placed the pancakes on the small table before turning to grab forks. “So, Thomas.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He handed Tom a fork and sat down across from him. “Have you ever thought about moving out?”

 

Tom let out a sad laugh. “Of course I have.”

 

He cocked his head to the left. “Why haven’t you, then?”

 

Sighing, Tom began to cut up his pancake with the fork. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

 

“Why not live with me?”

 

Tom shot his head up. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. It would be great to have company and not be a guest at someone’s house.”

 

“I-I wouldn’t be, you know, intruding or something?”

 

Tord shrugged. “Well, I’m _offering_ because I want you to live with me so, no, you wouldn’t be intruding.”

 

Tom’s face brightened. “Yeah. Hell yeah. I’d love that.” The happiness from his face suddenly disappeared, catching Tord’s attention. “What about Edd and Matt?”

 

Tord forced himself to not snap at Tom as he said, “They can’t know.”

 

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why not?”

 

“Do you really think they’d let you come with me? To them, I’m still the same guy from... back then.”

 

“But you’re not!” Tom shouted, taking Tord surprise. “You have changed! Why can’t they see that?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Calm down, Tom. It’s okay.”

 

Tom sighed, placing his head on his hand. “I know, but it upsets me, you know? I just wish they could see that. They’re oblivious.”

 

“So you won’t tell them?”

 

“No, you’re right. They wouldn’t let me, so I won’t tell them.”

 

Tord felt a grin snake its way up his face. “Good.”

 

Tom gave him a precious smile and for a split-second his heart fluttered. Tord mentally cursed and hid the feeling, looking away from Tom.

 

He wouldn’t fall in love with the black-eyed man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the gosh darn diddily heck?!?!1!1!!??1??1! I _updated?1!!!1??1??1?!_  
>  All jokes aside, I am officially a freshman.  
> Kill me.  
> I decided to ~~destress~~ celebrate by updating all of my stories. So, technically it’s the 18th, but I’m posting it on the 27th. Wish me luck.  
>  also??? i now have a tumblr. i'mma use it for updates and such, plus you guys can ask me or even message me lmao  
> link: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bunshinfanfiction


	12. Chapter 12

_Athazagoraphobia_

_(n.) the fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or being replaced._

Watching as Tord pulled his overnight pack over his arms, Tom began to fidget. His sweatshirt was tied tightly around his waist, the ASDF shirt making his arms uncomfortably visible. The Norwegian glanced up at the sudden movement. “Ready to begin leaving?” he asked.

“Can I... can I go say goodbye to Edd and Matt before we go?”

Tord glanced up at Tom, of course. He let out a soft breath before saying, “As long as you don’t directly say goodbye— we can’t let them know.” He walked to Tom before reaching up and petting his hair gently. “Don’t end it now.”

Tom looked crestfallen, but he nodded nonetheless. “Thank you, Tord.”

The Norwegian blinked in surprise. “Uh... no problem, I guess.”

Taking a deep breath, Tom turned and began to walk toward the door.

They had been getting ready for the move awhile. Tom’s room was clean and his clothes were packed, already at Tord’s house. He had never actually seen the house— not yet, anyway. Tord assured him that there was enough room for the both of them and that he was completely welcome.

All that was fruitless, of course. No matter what Tord said, he was going to be unsure.

He closed the door behind him, letting out a soft sigh.

Tord scared him.

Not in a he’s-going-to-hurt-me way, but a does-he-actually-like-me? way.

Tord has assured him many times, usually cuddling with him until Tom knew he belonged.

No matter what, the thoughts always came back. Yet, for some reason, Tord was always there when they came. He was always there for him.

He didn’t have anything to be scared of.

Now at Edd’s door, he took a shuddering breath of pure nervousness. Should he do this? Would Edd even let him in?

Well, there’s no going back now.

Three sharp knocks sounded in the hallway, Tom taking a step back and beginning to rub his arm.

The door opened a second later and Tom heard a joyous, “Edd, Tim is here!”

“Hey, Matt,” he offered to the ginger, nervously glancing to the inside of the apartment.

“I haven’t seen you in _forever!_ you’ve been cooped up inside of your apartment with To—“

“Matt.”

Edd was now in the doorway as well, glaring at said man. Then, he relaxed his gaze and brought his attention to Tom.

“Hey, Tom. Wanna come inside?” Edd asked with a polite voice that made Tom sick to his stomach.

“Y-yeah. That’d be great,” he responded nervously, glancing behind him toward his apartment.

Edd and Matt cleared the way, Tom rushing inside. He closed the door behind him.

“Let’s go to the living room,” Edd said gently. Tom’s stomach fluttered with unease at the tone.

After a moment of walking in awkward silence, Tom settled on the couch while Matt jumped on the armchair. Edd opted to stay standing.

“Tom, are... are you okay?” Edd asked when Tom was cuddled against the arm of the couch.

He blinked in surprise at the question, allowing it to register before he answered.

Was he okay?

Well, he didn’t have the luxury of ‘okay’, but with Tord...

“I’ve been doing better,” he admitted, thoughts on the Norwegian.

Edd breathed out a sigh of relief.

Everything went silent and Tom took the time to watch Edd.

The man had bags under his eyes, hair frizzing up and a cola stain landed on the tips of his sleeve. Paler than usual, his unusually dirty hair stuck out at odd angles.

Tom frowned.

“What about you? You look like shit. Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward as his eyebrows knitted in concern.

Edd heaved out what sounded like a forced chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been... stressed.”

Tom, fucking idiotic as usual, didn’t catch on. “About what?”

“You.”

Tom froze.

“Well, you and Tord, I mean,” Edd said hurriedly, squeezing his knuckles in nervousness. “You two— you’ve been spending so much time together. I— _we—_ think he’s cutting you off from us. We need you, Tom.”

Tom sucked in a breath through his teeth. His thoughts sped around his mind at speeds he didn’t think possible. What was he supposed to say? He had to defend Tord. That’s the only thing he knew for sure. So, he gathered up the courage and said, “I’ve been isolating myself from you guys for a long time. He has nothing to do it.”

“Yeah, but we never see you,” Matt whined, suddenly joining the conversation. “I miss you, Tim.”

He threw an off-handed glare at Matt. “It’s Tom.”

“Matt’s right,” Edd gently pressed, “Sure, you’ve isolated yourself before, but... we always got you out of it. It’s never lasted this wrong.”

“Maybe Tord’s been doing a better job at keeping me happy than you do,” Tom snarked, tearing his glare away from Matt to direct it towards Edd. Tom tensed up, the words having spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.

Edd stood, frozen. Matt, who was on the armchair, was speechless as well.

They all sat in very uncomfortable silence, staring at each other with anger boiling up inside of Edd and Tom. Matt just seemed upset.

Tom decided to break it.

“Tord... I think... no, I _know_ he’s changed. You guys... you just have to look harder,” he said softly, keeping his voice gentle yet confident.

“He’s... he’s changed?”

Tom blinked. Edd’s face went dark and about a thousand thoughts of possible different scenarios raced through his head.

Most of them ended with Edd hurting Tom.

“He hasn’t changed. He’s a monster,” Edd spat, hands clenched into a fist. “I don’t understand why you trust him.”

“He doesn’t want to hurt us,” Tom soothed, trying to defuse the situation as soon as possible.

Instead, Edd lunged for him and Tom raised his arms to protect himself, despite the fact that Edd had never hurt him before. The brunet was hovering over him, holding Tom’s arm, other hand pushing his sleeve up.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to hurt you?” Edd snarled, “Look at the scar he gave you. _And that’s only looking at the physical one.”_

Tom pulled his arm back, hand latching against the scar Tord had given him when he pulled that stupid giant robot stunt.

Edd knew it was one of Tom’s weaker points, but here he is, exploiting it to all who listen.

So now he sat here, chewing at his cheek. Edd’s heavy breathing filled the room, Tom taking a glance at Matt. The ginger was just sitting there, his eyebrows creased in concern.

“...I gave him worse scars.”

Edd immediately flew back, his hands high into the air. “Yeah, but you’re weak. You couldn’t handle what happened. Take a look at your suicide attempt!”

_You’re weak._

_You’re... you’re weak._

_If you’re so weak, why are you here?_

_Because Tord needs you._

_Tord needs you._

_Tord._

“And who was the one who helped me get through that?” Tom bit back sarcastically, “Because I’ll give you a hint— _it wasn’t you.”_

Edd took a step back, teeth clenching. “We couldn’t help you because Tord wouldn’t let us!”

Tom rolled his eyes(not that anyone could tell). “You can stop pretending that you care about me now.” He began to dig his nails into his thigh, pressing deep into the cuts because pain would help him from breaking.

“Pretending?” Edd shouted, hand squeezing his own hair. “Did _Tord_ give you that idea?”

Tom tensed up and he released his grip, standing up. “No. No, _you_ gave me the idea.” His voice was soft. Soft and frustrated. “I told you, you know. I told you I was suicidal. But no. No, no, no. You were too distracted by the television.”

Edd took a step back, eyes wide with surprise.

But Tom wasn’t done with his rant.

“You never care,” he hissed, voice beginning to raise. “You act like you do. You act like you’re so high and mighty— ‘look at me! I care for all that speaks!’ But, newsflash. You’re don’t. You have never cared. You don’t care about Tord. You don’t care about me. You didn’t care about Jon or about Eduardo.”

And Edd shook as he backed away. He trembled like an volcano, ready to spew out red, angry words that would burn Tom.

But, he had one more thing to get off his chest before left.

“Why? _Why do you hate me?”_ he snarled, forcing himself off the couch and toward Edd.

“You’re _unbearable,_ that’s why!” Edd shouted, “You always act like the victim, never taking a moment to look around at who your stupid outbursts are affecting other people! You stress us out with your overreacting!”

His eyes widened, mouth falling open.

“Edd, maybe that’s a little—“

“No, Matt, it’s not. It’s true. Tom puts us under too much pressure then expects us to be fine. We can’t do it. _I_ can’t do it.”

Tom didn’t know what to say.

His mouth was open but he couldn’t move it to make words.

Was he paralyzed? Paralyzed with shock? Fear?

Sadness?

He began to clutch his sweatshirt sleeves, the excessively familiar feeling of tears welling up in his eyes.

Yeah, it was definitely sadness.

Edd was looking at Tom like he was he bane of the brunet’s existence.

He felt sick.

That was the best way to describe it, really.

His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his eyes hurt, _his heart hurt._

Cliché, maybe, but true.

“Tim, Edd, you should both sit down so we can talk about this,” Matt soothed. Sweet as it may have sounded, the voice was only salt on his wounds.

“No, no, Edd’s right,” Tom said, his voice cracking. He rubbed one eye, wiping away the tears gathered there. “I... I’ll leave.” He took one last glance at Edd’s angry stance before walking toward the hallway.

“Tim. Tim!” Matt called, desperation obvious.

Poor, poor Matt. The peace-maker, never wanting to fight.

Usually, that was Edd.

But now...

Why... why was Edd so angry?

He should’ve talked to Tom about this. He would’ve changed. He would’ve stopped.

He shoved his hand in his pocket, gripping his phone; the other pulled open the door.

Out of the apartment in a flash, he closed door behind him.

He wouldn’t be speaking to them in awhile.

He... he wouldn’t be speaking to them.

Oh, god.

What had he done?

_What had he done?_

Edd— _Edd hated him._ He was going to leave Edd for who knows how long. After that conversation, too. Edd would hate him even more.

What had he done?

The air was thick. It hung there, threatening to choke Tom as he stood in front of his (old?) apartment door.

Wiping at his eyes to rid of the falling tears, he opened the door. Tord was nowhere in sight.

He closed the door behind him, sniffling quietly.

The phone in his pocket buzzed with a text, so he powered it off as he leaned his back against the door.

His reality was pretty much crushed.

Sinking to the ground, he shoved his head into his hands and let out a shaky sob.

“Tom?”

He curled into himself even further. Right now, he just wanted to wallow in his self-hatred.

“Tom, what happened?”

Edd. Edd happened, that’s what.

_**Tell him, Tom. He’ll help you.** _

Of course, _now_ the voice was here. Where was it earlier? Where was it when Edd was yelling at him?

_**Tom, for fuck’s sake, tell him.** _

“Edd,” he gasped out through his tears, _”Edd hates me. Everyone hates me. I’m a burden.”_

Then, his heart shattered.

“Do you hate me?” he whispered, eyes wide as he moved his hands away from his head.

Tord seemed taken aback at first; then, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glinted with anger. “No. No, I don’t hate you. Don’t even begin to think that. Did Edd tell you that?”

Tom didn’t answer him, rather opting to hide his face with his hands, because was Tord lying? Edd hated him because he was so annoying and he had been dumping his problems on Tord and—

The Norwegian grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. “I need you to answer me, my love. Why do you think I hate you?” He retracted his hands from Tom’s wrists, watching him with unbridled confusion.

“I just— I dump all of my problems on you, and— and you don’t deserve it—“

He cut himself off when Tord wrapped his hands around Tom. “No. You are not dumping your problems on me. I am willingly shouldering them,” Tord assured. “I don’t hate you.”

Tom sniffled gently as Tord retracted his hands. “I’m sorry.” He looked away from Tord.

The Norwegian cupped Tom’s face, forcing him to look at him. “No. Don’t be sorry, my love. I am here for you.” Then, Tord pressed a soft kiss onto Tom’s forehead before standing up. “Come on. It’s about time we got going.” He held his hand out.

Hesitatingly, Tom took it, latching his hand with the Norwegian’s.

In one split motion, Tord pulled Tom up before he could even think about doing it himself. The Norwegian released Tom’s hand. “Let’s get to my car, yes?”

Tom nodded, wiping at his eyes one last time before he moved out of the way of Tord. The Norwegian nodded in appreciation as he opened the apartment door.

Tom glanced at his old place. It felt empty; sure, it had the furniture, but it was without any personal belongings. Where there once was a candle that Tom would light whenever there was a power outage stood empty air. His old bag full of sheet music was packed away. His bookshelf was empty, ready to collect dust. A bunch of pens that used to sit on his coffee table was scattered inside of a small box that was thrown into a bigger box.

And, for a split second, Tom yearned to say. He yearned to tell Tord that he didn’t want to leave; that he wanted to regain Edd’s approval, he wanted to hug Matt and watch a movie with them.

He let out a soft sigh, mentally murmuring a gentle goodbye to everything and everyone.

Of course, he’d see them again. Just... not until they accepted Tord.

He closed the apartment door, blinking softly before turning around to face Tord. The Norwegian was watching him with an expression Tom couldn’t quite describe.

“Come on,” Tord said gently, reaching over to grab his hand. Tom obeyed, stepping forward, not expecting the kiss Tord pressed into his temple. “In the end, they’ll regret it.”

The voice let out a little hum of curiosity.

Ignoring the small noise, Tom nodded, letting Tord drag him toward the elevator.

Their steps were quiet, clicking softly throughout the hallway. Tord smiled gently at him when they entered the small space, as though it would ease Tom's fears. He smiled back, though, in an attempt to reassure Tord. The Norwegian nodded and pressed the first floor button, beginning to tap a foot.

During the silence, Tom let himself relax as he stared at Tord.

Tord stood in his red hoodie, the right side of still scarred from the incident. His right hand was covered with a black glove, vaguely sticking out compared to his bright sweatshirt and dark gray pants.

Tom let out a soft sigh as the elevator dinged. A second later, its doors opened to reveal the first floor. Tord quickly exited the small place, Tom behind him only a couple of steps. Tord threw his head back to make sure Tom was still following him, only looking forward when he smiled at Tord.

They were out of the front doors in an instant, stepping out into the chilly air. It wasn't too bad, only slightly biting at his open neck. He rubbed the patch of skin before following Tord out onto the concrete and toward the Norwegian's car.

It was an Impala, by the looks of it, which Tom only recognized from that one television show that was insanely popular. He shouldn't be surprised Tord was such a fanboy.

The thought forced a soft chuckle out of him.

"What? You don't like my baby?" Tord asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Tom threw an eyebrow up, offering yet but a small smile. "I should've known you were this much of a dweeb."

Letting out an over-exaggerated gasp, Tord threw his hands over his (non-existent) heart. "Are you insulting me? Because you just called 2.5 million people dweebs and, frankly, I'm offended."

He let out a snort. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Whatever. Just remember, driver controls the radio and the passenger shuts his pie-hole." That was followed by a quiet, "Did I remember that correctly?"

Tom rolled his eyes(not that anybody could tell). Then, he walked over to the passenger door, taking one last, wistful glance at his old apartment building. He was gonna miss this place; despite his drying tears, his heart already ached with longing.

Whatever. He'd get over it.

Then, he was inside the car, listening to the gentle noise of bags hitting the backseat. Tord was inside the car next, flashing Tom a bright grin. "Alrighty," he said, "let's begin to leave, yes? Maybe you should get some sleep while we're on the way there." He seemed to notice Tom's doubtful expression and added, "Not to worry. I won't touch you, and I don't think we'll get into a car accident."

Tom snorted. "You don't _think_ we will?"

"To be honest, that's just about the best I can promise ya."

Rolling his eyes, Tom placed his elbow on a part of the car, then his head on his hand. "Well, I guess it'll have to do. Wake me if somethin' serious happens, yeah?"

Tord hummed in agreement, so Tom closed his eyes and let himself drift into thought. He wasn't exactly sure when they'd get there, but he could hope it was less than an hour, even if he _did_ like car rides.

So, he felt himself doze off, just a little bit. The car ride was smooth, letting Tom get some well-needed rest.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he sure as hell did.

 

The car slowed to a stop. Tom groaned internally at the thought of waking up.

"Hey, the car ride has ended. You awake?"

He let out a small grunt of assurance, cracking open his eyes just a little bit. His limbs began to stretch themselves, shamelessly hitting Tord in the face.

"Ah. Thanks," Tord said mockingly, pushing his arm away from his face. Tom chuckled just a bit before shaking out his wrist and cracking his neck. Letting out a soft yawn, he unbuckled himself then exited the car, tossing his head back to glance at Tord, then at the Norwegian's house.

It was a two-story, by the looks of it. It seemed nice. A little bit too much like a white soccer mom in her forties that wants to see the manager owns it, but nice enough.

Ugh, why was he complaining? It was a really nice house, and here Tom was, complaining.

"So, do you like it?" Tord purred as Tom closed the car door.

Tom cleared his throat gently. "Yeah, it looks really nice. How do you afford it? This is some white suburban neighborhood kinda stuff.

Tord snorted. "Thanks. I can afford it because I'm hard-working."

He glanced at Tord up and down before saying, "Really? I couldn't tell."

"Wow, dick much?"

"Yet you're still here."

"Yeah, remind me why I am, again?"

Tom placed his hands over his heart and let out an obviously fake sniffle. "Because you're the Romeo to my Juliet and I would die without you!"

Tord rolled his eyes. "So you finally admit your the girl in this relationship."

Tom was bewildered for just a second before regaining his composure. "You only want me to say yes so you can put me in women's clothing."

He warily eyed Tom before saying, "Well, you're not wrong."

Tom began to laugh when something he certainly did not expect happened.

A single bullet whizzed past his ear.

Tom let out a gasp of shock and fear, because that was definitely the sound of an actual gun, not Tord pulling some stupid fucking prank on him.

"Oh my god, what the fuck?" he spat, only to jump back when the gun was shot again. Tord raced over to his side.

"Where the hell did the gunfire begin?" he asked before grabbing Tom's hand roughly and pulling him down. The car now shielded their bodies.

"I don't know!" Tom said in panic, only to have Tord grab his hand.

"Oh, boy," Tord said under his breath, sparking a bit of interest from Tom.

"What? What is it?"

Tord let out a soft sigh before letting go of Tom's hand. "I don't know. I don't want you to hate me."

He furrowed his eyebrows before quickly saying, "You know I couldn't hate you. Just tell me."

Tord visibly swallowed, his hand ghosting over Tom's, fingers barely tracing against his skin. "I, uh. I only kinda... well, you see... I never exactly _quit_ the army."

Tom blinked softly. "Okay...?"

Tord snorted as though Tom had said something stupid. "I'm pretty sure that's the enemy team right there, trying to, you know, _kill me."_

With that, Tom let out a loud, "Oh. We should get the hell out of here, then."

Tord cursed under his breath as he gently rubbed Tom's knee. "Yeah, you're right, but... you'd have to come with me. They've seen us together. There's no way they would let you escape now, but we have to end this."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows and started at Tord with a quizzical expression. "I would've come with you whether they spotted me or not. Let's just get the hell out of here, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tord agreed. He gently patted Tom's arm before pulling open the car door and sliding inside. Tom joined him not a split-second later, keeping his head down, completely still except for the flinching when the gun was fired again.

The engine roared to life as Tom slammed the car door closed, adrenaline rushing through him.

Tord pressed on the gas pedal and they were out of there in an instant, Tord letting out a terrified chuckle under his breath. "Well, I don't know where the gun fire began, but I'm glad you're okay."

_**Lame.** _

Tom raised an eyebrow at the voice, but opted to ignore his strange add-on to the conversation.

"Yeah, and I'm glad you're okay," he parroted back, only relaxing when Tord reached over to drag his fingertips across Tom's arm, only to retract it a second later.

"I hope you do forgive me for this," Tord muttered darkly, casting Tom an unsure glance.

He blinked. "Of course I do. It's not your fault."

Tord pressed the palm of his hand against Tom's thigh before removing it. "I... well, thanks."

"Only speaking the truth," he replied, nodding gently. Tord responded with a gentle poke to Tom's arm. Tom snorted before saying, "What's with all the touching?"

"Just wanna make sure you're actually here," Tord breathed out. "That was quite frightening." He touched Tom's face for only a split-second.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." Tom sighed deeply. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Well..." Tord paused. "The only safe place at the moment would be one of the bunkers I have. It's... it's only a thirty minute drive, but that's if I follow the speed limit." He ran his hand down Tom's arm.

Tom let out a soft laugh. "Please don't crash. I think I'd like to not die in a car wreck."

Tord made a weird expression, his face scrunching up. "Well, I can't promise anything."

"Yeah, thanks to your crappy driving skills."

Tord let out a very audible gasp; it almost hurt Tom's ears. "How _dare_ you! My driving skills are unparalleled!"

"Of course they are; nobody else sucks this bad." He felt a grin snake its way up his face when Tord flicked his arm.

"Honestly, I have never felt more betrayed in my life," Tord said, finally placing both of his hands on the steering wheel. Tom did nothing but roll his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"This car ride better not take a long time," Tom warned begrudgingly, taking a small glance at Tord.

"No promises, sweetheart."

Tom responded with nothing but a scoff, closing his eyes.

...

They quite under reacted, didn't they?

The normal person probably would've been panicking because, holy shit, they got shot at and they could've lost their lives. It's the kind of situation one would expect a lot of screaming from. Yet, once they were back in the car, everything had calmed down.

Hmm.

Whatever.

He let his thoughts drift to whatever the wind was carrying, giving in to the threat of a half-sleep.

Then, what felt like not five minutes later, Tom startled awake as the car drove over a huge bump.

"Looks like we're here; I guess the car ride has ended, huh?" Tord murmured gently, tossing a glance over to him.

Not bothering to respond, he decided to take in the building that was in front of him.

It looked _ridiculous._

Well, it wasn't really a building; instead, there was a dip in the road, the grass not bothering to travel down with it. It stuck out of the earth like a sore thumb and looked like that one place white kids from America would explore in a horror movie.

"It's... it's a bunker," Tord said, apparently realizing Tom's vague confusion. "I swear it's nicer inside."

Tom let out a small chuckle before putting on a fake offended act. "How dare you bring me to such a lowly place? And I thought you had cared for me!" he said in a rich, white lady tone, causing Tord to snort in laughter.

"Ah, yes, sorry, my dear, but you'll have to deal with it for just a little bit," Tord mocked in response, which caused Tom to roll his eyes right back, not that the Norwegian could tell. The car door opened and Tord unbuckled himself, Tom following suit.

"You think they followed us?" he asked curiously, no hint of fear in his voice.

_**Normally, you'd be trembling. Seems like Tord is a good influence on you, hmm?** _

"Probably not," Tord answered before Tom could respond to the voice's snark. "They would know better; I mean, what idiot would follow me?"

"A person with any form of balls," Tom joked in response. Tord flipped him off as they slammed the car doors closed, almost in sync.

"You are quite the ass, aren't you?" Tord hummed gently, waving his hand dismissively. "Come on, we need to get inside. Don't even begin to think about leaving my sight."

"Mkay," he responded, matching Tord's pace as they walked toward the seemingly abandoned bunker.

Tom almost fell as he slid down the dirty pathway while Tord didn't even stumble; to be honest, it's like he had plenty of practice.

Or he didn't skip leg day.

Whatever.

Tord leaned forward when he arrived at the door. He was staring at the little lock, which had a four-digit access code, by the looks of it. The Norwegian let out a soft sigh and pressed his finger into the buttons agonizingly slow.

_**You could at least try and remember the code.** _

_I don't think there's a point._

_**I'll remember it for the both of us, then.** _

The door beeped, startling Tom out of his conversation. Tord latched his hand onto the door handle and swung it open, revealing a... small room.

Okay, then.

They both walked inside, Tord humming a cheerful little tune. When Tom was inside, he realized that it was an elevator; the buttons on the side listed three floors. Interesting.

Tord pressed the bottom button; floor three it is, then.

He began to tap his foot restlessly, Tord shooting him a glare, flicking his nose gently.

"What? I'm impatient. You know this," Tom said with a wave of his hand.

Tord let out a soft sigh before deciding to change the subject. "I don't intend to offend you, but would you mind staying silent for a few minutes while I'm on the... communicator?"

Tom perked an eyebrow. Did he mean 'phone'? Well, he didn't mind either way. "Sure."

Tord nodded his thanks before pressing a button on the elevator wall.

It was silent for just a moment before a sweet, honey-like voice sounded through whatever speakers were in the elevator.

"Hello, hello! How can I help you?" the woman chirped in question.

"It's Tord. I'm back and I have a friend," Tord replied, voice bored.

She gasped. "Tord! I am _so_ glad you're back. I need to catch you up on the drama that's been happening at the bunker since--"

"Aadina," Tord warned in a cold voice, crossing his arms impatiently.

The girl, who was apparently named Aadina, laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'll gather everyone at the meeting room, yes? I mean, that's where I _assume_ you're going--"

"Yes, that's where we're headed. I'll see you there."

"Alright! I'll see you soon," she cooed, followed by a small beep that echoed through the elevator, then silence.

"She... seems like a character," Tom said as the elevator doors opened.

"Aadina is quite kind. I assume you'll like her," the Norwegian responded as he stepped out of the small space. Tom quickly followed him so they were side by side. Tord placed a small kiss on the side of his cheek.

It was much nicer than the entrance hinted at; the walls were a pale green, the floors a maroon color. Quite frankly, he liked the color scheme.

_**I wonder who made it. It's quite nice.** _

"It would be best for you to keep your head down; the people here know me. They don't know you."

Tom tilted his head but lowered it nonetheless as the walked down the hallway. It was silent, except for the noise of Tord's boots clicking against the tile. He was glad he wore his sneakers, to be honest; at least they were quiet and didn't attract any noise.

They only saw one other person on their trip; it seemed like a soldier. He dropped his lazy posture and stood straight, hand flying up to salute Tord. The action was followed by a loud, "Sir!"

Tom cringed slightly, but Tord didn't seem to hesitate. "At ease, soldier," he said without stopping. The other man nodded and quickly walked away. Tom had the urge to glance back at the soldier, but fought it off. Call it a gut feeling, but Tom didn't feel like it was a good idea.

Tord suddenly took a sharp left turn. The door in front of them stood tall, without any windows on its sides. Tord looked back at Tom and gave him a smile before reaching over and patting his cheek. "Your trouble has ended, my love." Then, the Norwegian grasped the handle and pushed the door open, giving Tom no time to react.

The room was big. You could probably fit thirty people inside of it. In the middle, there was a long table with fourteen chairs. Only nine of those chairs were occupied, though. Five were female and the other four were male. Tom only recognized two of them; Paul and Patryk.

He was snapped out of thought when Tord asked, "We're missing three people."

The girl with dark brown hair and somewhat lighter skin was the first to respond. "I'm pretty sure Collin's helping out a newbie soldier or something; we've been bored, all cooped up in here. You should let us come out and play every once and awhile, Red," she said with a pout, voice smooth like honey. It took a second, but it clicked-- the girl was Aadina.

"I wouldn't let an untrained Rottweiler out of its cage, now would I?" Tord teased back. Tom took a moment to glance at the two of them; they seemed like they were good friends.

Paul spoke up as well. "Nia and Ben were arguing ove-- er, _discussing_ something I can't comprehend. I really didn't want to get attacked, so I left them alone."

"Eyy, master--"

_"If you call me master one more time--"_

"Who's your friend?"

Tom glanced between the two speakers; Tord, of course, and a girl with red hair, which didn't even come down to her shoulders.

"Thomas, why don't you introduce yourself? My friends don't bite," Tord promised, his eyes flickering from Tom to the other occupants of the room.

So, he cleared his throat, sending a glare toward Tord. "I'm _Tom,_ not Thomas."

The Norwegian sighed. "That's probably the best I can get out of you for now. Listen, I have some... _situations_ to attend to." He glanced at the others. "You can have my phone; it is locked, but a smart boy like you can figure it out, yes?"

Tom did nothing but blink once.

Rolling his eyes, Tord reached down into his pocket and fished out his phone before giving it to Tom. "The others can introduce themselves, but I _really_ have to leave before our internal affairs go up in smoke." He let out a soft sigh before waving his hand dismissively.

Then, he turned around and left the room faster than Tom could stop him.

"So, Tom! You seem all buddy buddy with the master," the red-haired girl cooed, causing Tom to look at her.

She was paler than a damn vampire and she had two bows on the side of her head. Honestly, it looked like she was trying to look pure.

"Now, now, Koko, don't scare him," Aadina chided, "I say we should all introduce ourselves to allow him to be more comfortable."

"He already knows Paul and I," Patryk said. "Nice to see you."

Tom smiled gently, glad to hear a familiar voice. "Right back at ya, Pat."

Their conversation ended quickly when a male voice spoke up. "I'm Ethan and this is Emma. She's my twin. We're both the generals, or leaders, of the health department." The guy had spikey brown hair that leaned to the left, accompanied by tan skin. His sister seemed was almost a carbon copy, save for the boobs and longer hair. Oh, and she had matching bows with the red-head.

Tom quirked in eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"I'm Jonathan!" Tom twisted his head to look at the bright ginger. "I'm the general of the educations department. Also, you are _slaying_ in that outfit."

"Uhh... thanks, Jonathan," he mumbled, nodding in acknowledgment.

"I'm Qui!" added another voice. He turned to her. She had somewhat pale skin and brown hair that was thrown up into a ponytail. "I'm technically not an general; just one of Paul's underlings!"

"I'm also one of Paul's underlings; my name is Koko," said the red-head.

"I'm feelin' left out here," some chick said. "Name's Hazel. Head of the engineers." Everything about her screamed her name. Her eyes were a hazel nut brown, her skin was tan, and she had dirty blonde hair. Tom wondered if she changed it later in life to match her appearance.

"Don't forget about little ol' me!" Aadina cooed, "I'm Aadina, head of the diplomacy department. Come sit down, Tom!"

"So I've heard," he replied quietly, casting his gaze away from her as he walked forward, pulling out a chair.

Aadina ignored his off-handed comment. "So... Tord _already_ gave you his puzzle. You two must be pretty close." Sitting down, he looked back up at her.

Tom tilted his head slightly. "His... puzzle?"

She motioned to his hand.

Right. Tord's phone.

"Every one of his higher-up's gets a puzzle. It's specialized for each of them. I don't think anyone has passed, except..." Aadina trailed off.

He pressed the home button, watching as the screen came to life.

"Sadly, I'm not allowed to help you with them, so... I'll leave you to it."

Tom responded with nothing but a shrug, taking his time to inspect the 'puzzle'.

Six digits. Tom had five tries.

Well, his first thought was to put Tord's birthday.

It vibrated angrily in his hands, screen shaking and flashing red.

_Four tries._

Okay... Tom's birthday, then?

His fingers pressed the buttons quickly, eyes widening with anticipation.

It flashed red and Tom knew he had to slow down.

_Three tries._

Tord was not that simple; of course his password wasn't a date. There was also no way Tord would choose consecutive numbers; he would create a complex code, something you couldn't understand unless it was hinted at you.

Hinted at you.

Tord... he must've hinted it to Tom.

His thoughts began to run wild.

How?

How would someone pull off such a complex thing and expect someone to understand it? How far back did the hinting go? Or maybe he didn't hint to it at all. But that was just stupid, yes? There was no way Tord would let him go into this situation unarmed.

**_You're not unarmed._ **

Tom (accidentally) let out a hum of confusion, earning him some stares from the generals. Yet, nothing too serious. After all, they all knew he was taking Tord's 'test' or whatever.

_**I know the answer.** _

His head shot up.

_What? How?_

_**Like I said, I'll remember it for the both of us.** _

_Wait, you said that... is it the same digit code he used on the door? Wait, that was a four-digit code-_

_**No, it's quite a bit more complicated than that. Sit down and buckle your seat belt, because I'm about to blow your mind.** _

_**The first time he did the pattern, I suspected nothing off it. Just a fleeting comment, maybe a little bit of weird phrasing. The second time caught my attention, just a bit, but I kept quiet. The third time, I knew something was up, so I searched while you were asleep. I searched and I scanned and I noticed something.** _

_**In between the time he said 'are you ready to begin leaving' and 'don't end it now', he touched you once. Which, I know, sounds lame-- there's no pattern there, just a simple touch.** _

_**Then, you got back from Edd's place. In between the time he said 'don't even begin to think that' and 'in the end', he touched you seven times.** _

_**In the car, in between the word's 'begin' and 'end', he touched you zero times.** _

_**There were six events in which he used those two words.** _

_**It's a six-digit code.** _

_**I say we try it; after all, you still have three tries, yes?** _

Tom took a shuddering breath because _he hadn't noticed that._

Was this whole thing planned?

No, probably not. Maybe the amount of events, but definitely not the gunfire.

_Okay. List the numbers._

_**One.** _

Hand shaking, he inserted it.

_**Seven.** _

A pause.

_**Zero.** _

What if this was wrong? Or maybe the voice was messing with him?

_**Four.** _

Why was this a puzzle, anyway? Surely Tord didn't need to 'prove' Tom's skills, if he had any.

_**Six.** _

One more. One more and they would know.

_**Three.** _

_DING!_

The screen flashed green, then opened up to the home screen, and, frankly?

All Tom could do is stare.

 _ **I'm a god damn genius!** _ the voice shouted in his ear.

"I... I got in," he mumbled quietly, eyes blown wide with shock.

Aadina turned to him and let out a soft hum of confusion.

"I got in. I passed his test."

Tom heard a quiet, "Holy shit," from Ethan, and Tom couldn't judge him because his reaction was the exact same.

"There is only one other person who passed his test," Aadina breathed out, eyes wide.

He blinked, his shock momentarily replaced with confusion. "Who?"

She tilted her head gently, raising her eyebrows to form a pitiful look. "I can't say, Blue."

Well, that certainty failed to satisfy him. Now, all he felt was unadulterated curiosity.

Then a little bit of confusion.

"Blue?" he asked, cracking his knuckles gently.

"Haha, yeah. I hope you don't mind. I call Tord 'Red' since he always wears red, and you have a blue sweatshirt, so..." Aadina trailed off, shrugging.

"I don't mind. I think it's a fine nickname." He waved his hand dismissively.

"Wait, wait," Koko said, cutting off any upcoming conversation. "I still want to know you got in."

_Can I steal your spotlight?_

_**Sure. After all, I am a part of you.** _

Tom glanced at the phone, then shrugged. "It was quite simple, really. He used a pattern a baby could figure out; that is, if they're paying attention." He placed his elbow on the table, fingers curling.

"Care to explain?" Emma asked, forcing Tom's attention to the brunette.

"He used the words 'begin' and 'end' six times. Its a six digit code. Use your head."

Emma's eyebrows knitted together. "Damn. That's wild."

Cracking his knuckles, Tom nodded. He glanced down at Tord's phone, only to lazily shut it off and slide it away from him.

Speaking of phones...

His face drained of color.

"Tom? You look pale, are you okay?"

He let out a little cough as he grabbed his own phone from his sweatshirt pocket. "Yeah, perfectly fine," he lied, chewing gently at his cheek.

Pressing the power button, he watched nervously as his phone turned on, screen lighting up.

The first think that popped up on his screen was a text message.

_Matt_   
_Tim, come back, we really need to discuss this_

_Matt_   
_Tim?_

_Matt_   
_It's not fair when you ignore my texts :(_

_Matt_   
_I told Edd you're not answering your phone_

_Edd_   
_You breathing?_

_Matt_   
_He looked nervous_

_Missed calls from Edd(3)_

_Missed calls from Matt(6)_

_Matt_   
_We're going to check your apartment_

_Matt_   
_I hope you're okay_

_Matt_   
_Nobody is in your apartment._

_Matt_   
_Did you leave us?_

_Edd_   
_I'm sure you just went out for a drink or something_

_Edd_   
_Please text me when you're back_

_Edd_   
_It's been hours_

_Edd_   
_Where are you?_

_Edd_   
_Tord's gone, too_

_Edd_   
_Did you leave with him?_

_Edd_   
_I should have known._

Gently, Tom placed the phone down.

His stomach ached. It wanted to remove its contents.

"You sure you okay? You're lookin' like a ghost over there," Koko said, breaking Tom out of his thoughts.

He smiled weakly at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't counter his claim.

_**Change the subject.** _

_What?_

_**It's not good for you to be thinking about Edd and Matt. Ask them about the army or I'll do it for you.** _

"Uhh-- I have some questions, if that's alright," Tom said without hesitation; the voice scared him.

"Sure! We'll answer them to the best of our ability," Aadina responded cheerfully, fixing him with a grin full of white teeth.

"For one, you guys were talking about departments. What's that all about?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

Aadina's eyes brightened. "Well, you see, there are nine departments-- diplomacy, military, tactics, health, training, staff/recruiter, engineer, education, and economic. Every department has one general, or leader, except for health. Tord is the leader of the military department. I lead diplomacy, Paul leads tactics, Emma and Ethan lead health, Collin leads training, Patryk leads staff/recruiting, Hazel leads engineering, Jonathan leads educations, and Nia leads economic. Originally, there were only three higher-ups; Tord, Paul, and Patryk. As the army grew much bigger, they realized that they needed more than three people to rule over the army. Hence, the council was born."

"I think you over-answered, honey," Jonathan piped up sweetly. Everyone snickered while Tom just blinked.

"And, you said you guys were Paul's underlings, yes?" He pointed toward Qui and Koko. "What does that mean?"

Qui spoke up this time. "Well, being a single tactician when you have such a large army is hard. So, he split us up into three groups. I'm the aerial officer, Koko is the naval officer, and Ben is the land officer. We all specialize in those three categories."

Tom hummed slightly. "Interesting, to say the least. One last question."

"What's up?"

"What is this army's purpose?"

Before anybody could answer, the door pealed open to reveal a disheveled Tord.

"Jesus fuck, what the hell happened to you?" Emma asked, her eyes blown wide.

"I tried to stop the fight between Nia and Ben," Tord said, punctuated with a groan.

The generals all laughed, but Tom stayed silent.

Then, the Norwegian directed his gaze to Tom. "So? Did you find out the pass code?" he asked excitedly, rushing over to sit next to Tom.

"Yup." He grabbed the phone, pressed the home button, and pressed the digits before Tord could protest.

"Well, would you look at that! You found out my puzzle." Tom put the phone down, titling his head to the side.

"So it seems."

Then, Tord leaned toward him and engulfed him with a hug, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "I am _so_ proud of you!" he purred delightedly.

"PDA," Qui cooed, placing her chin on her hands.

"Yeah, speaking of public affection, _get off of me."_

Tord slid his hands down Tom's waist before retracting them. "Your inability to accept my affection does not change my _burning_ feelings for you," he teased, leaning back in his chair.

Tom could feel his face start to burn. "It's time to stop," he muttered, glancing toward the generals.

The Norwegian let out a chuckle. "Alright, alright," he said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Wow, Tom sure has you wrapped around his finger, Tord," Jonathan chirped from the corner, eyes shining.

A grin snaked its way up Tom's face. "Well, that I won't deny," he replied, tossing his head back to look at Jonathan.

Tord raised his eyebrow as he said, "Honestly, I have never been more offe--"

The door burst open, slamming against the wall, cutting Tord off. "Red Leader, sir!"

Everyone looked up; the girl at the door looked... unique. She had darker skin, one side of her head wrapped with bandages. Hair short, half of it was purple, hanging off the side of her head.

Nice.

"What it is, Nia?" Tord asked, suddenly alert.

"One of our bases were attacked; it looks like we outnumber them, but they caught us by surprise. One of Collin's trainee's came by and started screaming about it," she rushed out, sounding out of breath.

"What?" Koko gasped, standing up, her chair rolling behind her.

"We can beat them. We just need the Red Leader's order," Nia said, sounding much calmer as she ignored Koko.

Tom looked toward Tord. The Norwegian's face was... dark. His eye was narrowed, eyebrows furrowed. It was quiet for a moment.

Then, "Beat them. Beat them and give no quarter."

**_Give no quarter...?_ **

He glanced at the generals, confused.

Koko, Qui, Aadina, Emma,and Ethan had a sinister smile on their faces, while the others looked dark.

Then, he looked back at Nia.

Her face rippled into a smile as she said, "Roger that, Red Leader." Then, she turned and left, keeping the door wide open.

_**What the hell just happened?** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh, like two things.  
> yes, there are oc's, but that's because i spent a week designing the army and everybody said "no, shi, you cannot control an army with three to four people" so i ended up making the council
> 
> yeah... that's uh, about it for the oc thing and now onto the serious topic because i am very stressed and also apologetic, and it's going to be kinda long so here's like a uh a run down of what is going to be said  
> i'm stressed, this is the first thing i've written in a month, and school is taking up all of my damn time
> 
> okay now that that's done get ready for the rant ;)  
> so my father has finally admitted i'm a disappointment, that's fun, uh, i've been studying non-stop, not that my parents care, and i haven't written anything since this, which sounds really dumb but fact is i used to write every day but obviously that didn't happen, also i just realized how insignificant my problems are and now i feel really bad, i apologize, i should have updated by now, but i've been so god damn stressed, also my mother tells me that i can tell her anything which i know is off-topic but i came out as ace/aro to her and i'm pretty sure she's forgotten about it/ignored everything b/c she laughed at me, told me i'd find the right person some day, then never spoke about it again, but she acts like liking girls would be better than liking no one, and she's hella homophobic, so that's fun, also i'm too scared to tell my parents im severely depressed b/c they have told me how i'm an average student and should be better and mock me whenever i don't smile, so that's even more fun, also i know i've said this before, but i'm really stressed, also i only see my best friend once a week on thursdays for an hour and frankly i'm really fucking scared because i don't want to lose her and what if i lose her???? uh anyway stupidity asides,
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter   
> it's 7,876 words, also it's not edited so there's probably some snarky comments in there and a lot of grammar mistakes,


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